


My Affections and Wishes

by ladyspencer



Category: Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Gambling, Prostitution, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 86,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyspencer/pseuds/ladyspencer
Summary: The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit  countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please see the end notes for acknowledgments and background. There is a remote possibility that this story will contain triggers. I will try to clarify those in the end notes to this first chapter.
> 
> I am completely unable to figure out how to get the editor to help me post the chapters as "1/?". The story is actually many chapters long, and many words in length. I'm sure I'll make sense of it eventually.

# My Affections and Wishes

### Chapter 1

_She stood in the center hallway of the parsonage carefully dusting and re-dusting the small table and mirror, running a rag over the moldings and baseboards, and listening. Dressed in a simple “round” gown of brown calico, her figure was hidden by her voluminous white apron. Her guinea-gold curls were pulled back under a starched white mobcap._

_“You have said quite enough, Madam.” Ruth heard Mr. Darcy’s voice and crept closer to the door. “I perfectly comprehend your feelings and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been.” She whisked herself away, down the back hall towards the basement stairs, not waiting to hear the end of the conversation. Within moments, the parlor door opened, Mr. Darcy’s footsteps sounded in the hallway, and she heard him let himself out. She picked up her basket of rags and dust cloths and made her way down to the kitchen. With the family dining at Rosings, she knew her supper would be ready and that she would have the rest of the evening off._

* * *

_“You are certain that this is what you heard?” Her eyes made Ruth think of a serpent’s eyes, and they were at present drilling into her. “There can be no mistake.”_

_“Yes milady,” replied the maid with a curtsy. “Mr. Darcy made the offer of marriage. Miss Bennet refused him, and they quarreled. It went on for some time--something about Miss Bennet’s sister, and something else about someone named Wickham. Mr. Darcy left shortly after that.”_

_“And you are certain the name you heard was Wickham.” The reptilian eyes grew harder and colder.  
“Yes ma’am. I am certain of it. The name was mentioned by both of them.”_

_“Very well.” Lady Catherine turned to a ledger which lay open on the desk before her. Ruth stood quietly. At length, Lady Catherine said, “It seems that your mother has not yet paid this quarter’s rent on the cottage. I will see that her debt is discharged before the bailiff gets to her.”_

“Thank you, milady.” Ruth dropped another curtsy. 

_“You may go.”_

_A footman was waiting to conduct Ruth down the darkened stairs, and she was soon on her way back to the parsonage. Lady Catherine de Bourgh closed the ledger, laid it aside, and took up her pen. How convenient that the _shire Militia were quartered at Meryton._

* * *

Fitzwilliam Darcy, having dismissed his manservant, stood in his shirtsleeves looking out of the window in his bedchamber at Pemberley. He never tired of the prospect of wide lawns, the stream, and the grove of trees in the background. However, this morning he was all but blind to the natural beauty before him. All he could see was the face of Elizabeth Bennet. 

Their sudden, startling meeting at Pemberley had unsettled them both. Darcy’s careful efforts to get on with his life had been undone in a moment, and it was evident that her perceptions had been altered as well. But how much? It was instantly clear to him that her unexpected appearance was a Heaven-sent opportunity to convince her that he had understood her reproofs and that he had made sincere efforts to address them. But was it enough? Her uncle and aunt were delightful people, and welcoming them to his home had been a genuine pleasure. He had liked both of them on sight, and he shuddered at the recollection of his disparaging speech at the Hunsford parsonage. 

Then there was Elizabeth herself. It was apparent that she, too, was making efforts toward cordiality--or that she felt sufficiently comfortable to allow the natural ease and friendliness of her manners to shine forth. He had been deeply touched by her warmth to his sister. Elizabeth had soon put the shy young Georgiana at her ease, and the pair of them had cemented their friendship over music. 

Elizabeth Bennet had inflamed his senses once again, and he had slept very little the previous night. He could call to memory the sweetness of her voice as she sang, the warmth of her gaze on him as she stood turning the pages for Georgiana, the smile that had seemed to be just for him as she looked at him from across the room. Did he dare to hope? He saw the view from his window with sudden clarity, imagined driving with her through the woods, down the hill, and up to the house. He imagined welcoming her as his wife, bringing her in, making her feel at home. He imagined his days brightened by her lively humor, her intelligence, her kindness. He imagined her with him in the wide bed that stood in this very room. He imagined what his life might be if she loved him as he loved her. 

Darcy struck the window sill with his fist, and his decision was made in that moment. He rang for his valet, who appeared with a selection of waistcoats and coats, and almost before he knew what was happening, he found himself riding up the hill and turning onto the road to Lambton.

Elizabeth was alone in the parlor when he arrived at the inn. She stood and curtsied with a warm smile of welcome and gestured to a seat at the table. “Please, do sit down,” she began. “Aunt and Uncle have gone to visit the church, and I was just writing to my sisters.” 

“I fear I am interrupting you.” Darcy continued to stand, but he placed his hat on the table.

“Oh, no, no,” she replied airily. “I keep a sort of running letter open and write a little each day. When I have enough to be of interest, I will close the letter and send it off to them. It is something like a journal.” 

Pulling the last shreds of his courage together, Darcy looked at her and smiled. "I was wondering, Miss Bennet." This was followed by an awkward pause until he looked at her and realized she was smiling encouragement. "Would you care to take a walk? There are some excellent views on the outskirts of the village, and it is a fine day." 

"I would enjoy that very much, Mr. Darcy." He could drown himself in those dark eyes. "I'll just run up and get my bonnet and pelisse, shall I? And I'll ask Hannah to tell my aunt and uncle." 

He smiled at her and moved to open the door to the parlor. 

In what seemed like moments, they were strolling down Lambton's charming main street. "Is that the famous horse-chestnut tree on the green, by the smithy?" asked Elizabeth.

"That is the very tree," he replied. "Prized by generations of children for miles around." 

"And are we walking towards Pemberley?"

"No," replied Darcy. "Away from it. There are some good views of the Peaks and the moorlands in the distance." The road eventually narrowed to a country lane, overhung on both sides in places by trees, and bordered by fences and hedgerows. Darcy continued, accommodating his long stride to her shorter one, until they reached a fence with a stile. "There," he said, raising his arm to point out the distant view of rugged peaks and high moorlands.

"Breathtaking," she said simply. 

He looked down at her with a smile. "I am glad it pleases you," he said. "It is one of my favorite prospects, and I often pause here to admire it on my way home."

"I should like to walk on the moors someday," she said. "Though I understand it is important to have a guide who is familiar with them."

"Perhaps one day we shall. I would be honored to serve as your guide. Miss Bennet," Darcy looked at Elizabeth earnestly, and his carefully worded speech was forgotten, leaving his mind momentarily blank. “Miss Bennet,” he began again. “I have not forgotten your words on the occasion of our last conversation at Hunsford.” He looked at her, and while she remained silent, he noted that a blush had colored her cheeks. He went on, “I remember the turn of your countenance, your words--had I behaved in a more gentleman-like manner. All of that has stayed with me.” He drew in a breath and plunged ahead. “I was given good principles as a child, but I was left to follow them in pride and conceit. I learned to think meanly of everyone in the world outside my own family and friends. Such I might have remained but for you. But by you I was properly humbled! I owe you everything.” He looked at her again, searching her face for any signs of anger or disdain, and when he did not find them, he went on. “Attending to your reproofs will be the work of a lifetime, but in good conscience, I have made a beginning. My affections and wishes are unchanged since April, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever. Can you--will you--do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Elizabeth stood very straight and still, just as he remembered her standing on that day in April. Her face was devoid of expression. She seemed to be looking inward. Darcy saw her swallow hard, watched her eyes fill with tears. And then she smiled and held out her hand to him, and he realized that they were tears of happiness. “Yes!” she said. “Oh, yes!” 

He covered the distance between them in a single stride, taking that small hand and covering it with kisses before folding her in his arms. Despite her bonnet, he managed to cradle her face in his two hands, kissing her gently at first, then more ardently, until she yielded her mouth to him. It was a kiss so gentle and pleading that she wished it might never end. She leaned on his chest, almost feeling, rather than hearing him say, "I love you, Elizabeth. I will love you forever. I promise you, you will never be sorry." 

They remained in this attitude, saying nothing, until they heard the sound of cart wheels in the distance. Then they separated, and Darcy seated Elizabeth on the nearby stile, moving to stand near her, but not touching her. The farmer, recognizing him, touched his cap as he drove by, soon disappearing in the direction of Lambton. 

"What made you change your mind?" Darcy asked when they were alone again. 

"It was a gradual thing," Elizabeth said. "But it began almost as soon as I had read the letter you handed me at Rosings." She paused and looked into the distance. "After I had read that letter several times, I began to think that I had never known myself until you showed me how stupidly I had allowed myself to be deceived by Wickham. My father had the right of him. He said, 'With such stories of woe as these, who would read novels?' I had allowed my annoyance with you after the assembly at Meryton to grow into real prejudice." 

"And what of your sister Jane?"

"Having spoken to Mr. Bingley several times during this visit, I think he is as fond of her as ever." Elizabeth looked at Darcy and extended her hand, which he took. "It is my hope that he will learn that she was in town for those three months. Other than that, I can ask only that you look at them with fresh eyes when next you see them together. I believe you will do that." 

"You know I will," he replied. "And I will acquaint Bingley with that knowledge at the first opportunity."

They spent a good while talking about everything and nothing, gazing at the view, and gazing into each other's eyes until Elizabeth finally said, "We ought to get back. My aunt and uncle will wonder what became of us." She walked into his arms, pulled his face down to hers, and whispered into his ear, "Just one more kiss?" It was a request he was happy to comply with, and then they turned and walked back to Lambton side by side. 

“Mr. Darcy. Lizzie?” Mrs Gardiner’s voice sounded puzzled and a little shocked as they entered the parlor, as if she knew that until moments ago they had been in each other’s arms. Mr. Gardiner stood beside and a little behind her, smiling. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost." There was a small, but awkward pause.

Elizabeth looked at Darcy, caught his slight nod, and stepped forward. “Aunt. Uncle. Mr. Darcy has made me an offer of marriage, and this offer I have accepted.” 

Darcy returned to her side and folded her arm over his. “I will go into Hertfordshire without delay to wait upon Mr. Bennet and secure his permission for the marriage. Of course we will make no public announcement until after that time. But I think you two mean a great deal to Miss Bennet.” 

Astonished as they both were, the Gardiners wasted no time in congratulating the couple, embracing their niece and shaking hands with Darcy. “But how has this happened?” asked Mrs Gardiner when the four of them were finally seated around the table. “How long have you known?” 

“I believe it has been coming on since the three weeks Mr. Darcy spent in Kent when I was there last spring,” said Elizabeth. “Though I was embarrassed to meet him at Pemberley the other day, it has turned out to be a fortunate event.” She smiled over at him. “It gave us the opportunity to better understand and express our true feelings.” 

The four were soon occupied with happy plans for the remaining time to be spent in Derbyshire and for the journey back to Longbourn. The maid, Hannah, appeared at the door. “The post just come, Ma’am. Here are two letters for Miss Bennet.” 

Elizabeth took the letters and laid them face down on the table. 

“Read your letters, Lizzie!” said her aunt. “You’re certainly among friends here. Go and sit by the fireplace, and I’ll ring for some refreshments.” 

With a smile for Darcy, Elizabeth left the table and was soon breaking the seal on the first letter. The others, wishing to afford her a semblance of privacy, ignored her politely and busied themselves about the refreshments. They did not notice the change in her manner, her pallor, or her sudden tears until she cried, “Lydia! Poor stupid girl!”

Darcy was by her side in an instant, clasping her hand and looking anxiously into her face. “Dear God, what is the matter Elizabeth?” Turning to Mr. Gardiner, he went on, “Please pour her a glass of wine. Truly she looks very ill!” He held the glass of wine for her until she had taken several sips. “What can we do for your present relief? Do you wish to go up to your room? Shall your uncle and I assist you?” 

Elizabeth shook her head, touched by his kindness but unable to thank him. When she had gathered her wits, she began. “There is dreadful news from Longbourn.” She held up her hand. 

“No, no, they are all well. My sister Lydia has left all her friends--has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of--of Mr. Wickham.” Darcy clasped her hand more tightly. “They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest.”

“I am grieved indeed. Grieved--shocked. But is it absolutely certain?”

“They left Brighton together on Sunday and were traced almost to London; they are certainly not gone to Scotland.”

Mr. Gardiner broke in. “And what has been attempted to recover her?”

“My father is gone to London with Colonel Forster, and Jane writes to beg your immediate assistance, Uncle. We must leave without delay.” 

“You will certainly not make any progress if you leave this afternoon,” said Darcy. “It is almost five. By the time you have packed and readied the carriage, it will be evening.”

“Mr. Darcy is right,” added Mr. Gardiner. “It will be much better if we leave at first light tomorrow.” 

“Certainly,” replied Elizabeth. “It is a good point.”

“Now, will you not go upstairs and rest for an hour, dearest Elizabeth? I will be here when you come down. I would welcome some private speech with your uncle concerning how I may be of service in this matter.” Darcy stood and gently drew Elizabeth to her feet. 

“Aunt? Uncle? Would you give us a moment, please?” Elizabeth’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. 

“Of course, my dear,” replied her aunt. “I will go upstairs and begin to arrange for the packing, and your uncle will want to go out and speak to the coachman, I’m sure.” 

As soon as they had gone, Elizabeth stood. “Mr. Darcy,” she began.

“Could you not call me by my name?”

She smiled sadly but kept her eyes lowered. “Very well, Fitzwilliam. It seems my sister is lost to us--irretrievably lost, and at the hands of the man you despise most in the world. Our whole family must partake of her ruin and disgrace.” 

“Elizabeth--”

“No, you must allow me to finish. Please. I cannot ask you to be part of that ruin. You are honorable in all your dealings. Your servants and tenants call you the best landlord and the best master that ever lived. You have a young sister who depends on you. I cannot--I cannot in good conscience drag you into this--this sad, sordid business!”

She looked up in time to see the look of sorrow that crossed his face. “No, Elizabeth,” he finally said. “It will not do. You cannot ask me to ignore or forget what passed between us today.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her, and all of his love and longing were in that kiss. She could not help but return it. “Hear this, and remember it. My affections and wishes remain unchanged. They will remain unchanged until I draw my last breath.” 

Elizabeth hid her face in his shoulder and wept. When she had no more tears left, she looked up at him and said, “I don’t deserve you.” 

He placed his finger against her lips. “Let’s hear no more of that. I am yours--utterly and completely. Besides--" He turned away from her, and she heard him draw a long, shuddering breath before he could continue. "If I had been less guilty of pride, less concerned with my own privacy and more concerned for the common good, I would never have left him at large to prey upon an unsuspecting world. Your sister is an innocent girl. That she has been abducted by this monster is my fault. Your lessons in humility were well received, but they came too late to prevent this. The fault is mine. Not yours, not your family's, not even your sister's. You would be quite right if you never wanted to see me again."

Elizabeth placed her hands on his shoulders and tried to compel him to turn round to face her, but he would not. So she walked around until she was facing him. His face was pale, his eyes downcast, his hands balled into fists. She stood on tiptoe and took his face into her hands despite his resistance, and she began to kiss him--tiny kisses as gentle and as pleading as his own had been. Before long she felt him shudder, felt his hands relax, and finally felt his arms go around her as they both surrendered to the kiss. Eventually, she twined her fingers in the tresses of his hair and compelled him to look at her. She smiled shakily at first, but the smile soon took on her usual impish look. "It would seem we belong to each other, Fitzwilliam, because I cannot get on without you. Perhaps we should simply make the best of it."

To her delight, he smiled back. "I believe you are right, Elizabeth. It would enable us to get on with the task of finding your sister. Our sister. Now, go to your aunt and then rest. I’ll see that you’re called in an hour. I want to talk with your uncle. There are ways I can be of use in this. I know Wickham, and I know of his friends and his haunts. If he has taken your sister to London, they can be found.” 

They walked out of the parlor arm in arm, and he watched her as she went upstairs.

* * *

_In Kent, a footman brought the post. She slit open the seal on the letter and read with satisfaction. “Written from Brighton this past Sunday afternoon,” she mused. “Very good. Very good indeed, and well worth the wait. He will never wish to return to her now.” She penned a quick note and  
rang for the footman. “Have this taken to the parsonage immediately.” A good dinner, a few well-placed words, and that ridiculous parson would have the news spread all over Hertfordshire. The Lucases loved to talk. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”

### Chapter 2

Elizabeth leaned back against the carriage cushions. The journey from Derbyshire to Longbourn would take two and one-half days, and she already felt tired. Darcy and her Uncle Gardiner had proven themselves well up to the task of organizing the journey and the search. Each was supplied with the London direction of the other as well as a rough itinerary. Mr. Gardiner would send word to Mr. Darcy as soon as he reached his home in Gracechurch Street. An express had been dispatched to Jane informing her of when to expect them. 

Elizabeth and Darcy had agreed that nothing should be said at Pemberley on the subject of their engagement. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley would be left to entertain the Bingleys and the Hursts, and that task was formidable enough without expecting her to deal with any reaction to news of the engagement. It was understood that “urgent business” called Elizabeth and the Gardiners to Longbourn and that Darcy would be traveling on other business to London.

He had arrived shortly after dawn to see the Longbourn party off from the inn at Lambton, and while their farewells had been public, he had managed to reassure Elizabeth, once again, of his love and regard. She carried in her reticule his card with the direction of his house in London and instructions to get word to him--and hang the propriety--if she felt she needed him. He would leave for London that very morning. 

“Lizzy, it grieves me to see you so worried.” She realized that her uncle was speaking to her. “Lydia is by no means friendless or unprotected. Why would Wickham elope with a girl who has no fortune at all. Forgive me, but the incentive is not all that great. I predict we may yet see a happy outcome.” He squeezed her hand. “You look as if you had not slept at all. Why not close your eyes now and see if you can get some rest?”

* * *

Their arrival at Longbourn two days later was chaotic. Elizabeth had to be restrained from jumping from the carriage before it stopped, and she rushed to embrace her sister Jane as the Gardiner children gathered around their parents. 

As the adults stood in the front hall, Jane said, “Mother has been asking for you, Lizzie. But before we go up, a most unexpected express has been delivered this morning. It was directed to my father, but Uncle, the gentleman who wrote it claims an acquaintance with you.” She produced the letter from the book she was carrying. “It is from a Mr. Evan Caldwell, and from the manner of his address, I believe he must be a Quaker.” She handed the letter to her uncle. “If what he says is true, then it is very good news. I’ve said nothing about it to my mother. In fact, let us go into my father’s library to read and discuss this. I’d like for Mother not to hear it.”

“Evan Caldwell is very well known to me,” said her uncle. “In fact, he and his wife, Anna, are our nearest neighbors in Gracechurch street, and we have known the family for years. And yes, Jane, they are Quakers.” He opened the letter and read it hastily.

“Evan and Anna have Lydia!” he exclaimed. “She arrived at our house Monday evening in a hackney and was in great distress when she found the house closed up and all the servants gone. She was in strong hysterics when Evan found her and brought her to Anna.” Mr. Gardiner looked up from the letter. “Evan says she would neither eat nor speak for days, and they have only just persuaded her to tell them who her father is and how she came to be in Gracechurch Street. He believes she was abducted, or lured to London under false pretences and used the last of her money to take the hackney to our house in an effort to preserve her virtue. He commends her for being a good, strong girl.” 

“Well, we can always hope,” said Elizabeth.

“No, Lizzie. What Mr. Caldwell says aligns perfectly with what Lydia said in this note she left for Mrs Forster.” Jane brought out a second folded letter from her book. “She sincerely believed she was going to Gretna Green to be married.” 

Elizabeth scanned the letter. “What a letter to be written at such a time!” she exclaimed. “But you are right, Jane. There was no wrong intention on her side.” 

“I believe I should leave for London after dinner,” said Mr. Gardiner with a look at his wife. “Our horses cannot travel another step, but I should be able to hire a chaise at the inn at Meryton.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Lizzie. “Let us send one of the men over to arrange for it now.”

“Dinner is almost ready,” added Jane. “We should go up to Mother.” 

The visit with Mrs Bennet was intense but of mercifully short duration. They greeted Kitty and Mary, who were sitting with her, before turning to a recital of her various tremblings and flutterings followed by an hysterical plea to her brother to stop Mr. Bennet from becoming embroiled in a duel with Wickham. Everyone listened sympathetically, Elizabeth kissed her mother, Mr. Gardiner reassured her that he would take care of them all, and they were blessedly interrupted by Hill announcing that dinner was on the table. 

Much of dinner was spent listening to Mary’s platitudes on the subject of feminine virtue and sisterly consolation with an additional catalogue of complaints from Kitty about how mean everyone was being to her. The elders had agreed that nothing would be said to the younger girls, or to their mother, until Lydia was safe with her father. Aunt Gardiner and the children were to stay at Longbourn for a few more days. 

Shortly after dinner, the chaise was at the door. Uncle Gardiner embraced his wife and children  
and kissed his nieces, and when it was Lizzy’s turn, he said quietly, “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll get a message to Mr. Darcy immediately.” Then he was into the carriage and gone. 

That night, when the house had finally become quiet, Elizabeth opened her heart to Jane, who was incredulous.

“Mr. Darcy! You are joking, Lizzy! This cannot be! I know how much you dislike him.”

“In such cases as this, a good memory is unpardonable,” replied Lizzy. “The time we spent at Pemberley last week gave us the time we needed to understand our true feelings. You must believe me. He is coming here to wait on Papa, and we shall be married.” 

"Be serious, Lizzy! When did you first know you loved him."

Elizabeth smiled mischievously. "I believe it must have been the first time I saw his beautiful grounds at Pemberley." 

Jane pushed her away.

"No, I will be serious. He has grown so very dear to me that I cannot imagine going through life without him."

Jane, now convinced, had no choice but to embrace her sister, wishing her every happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to draw up a mini-calendar to map out the chronology of Lydia's elopement, the arrival of news at Longbourn, the arrival of the news at Lambton, and so on. Let's hope I didn't telescope it too much. My calculation, it's about 150 miles from Lambton to Meryton--a long journey.
> 
> Please see the end note to Chapter 1 for possible trigger warnings.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”

Mr. Gardiner, arriving in London somewhat late, and knowing that his house in Gracechurch street would be closed, with the servants on holiday, went directly to the hotel where his brother-in-law was staying. 

“I have no news for you,” said Mr. Bennet shaking his head sadly. “They were traced as far as Clapham, but no further. They changed to a hackney coach at that point, and I have been unable to locate it. Colonel Forster had pressing duties, and he has left to rejoin his regiment in Brighton.”

“I have good news, Brother,” said Mr. Gardiner, settling into an armchair. “Lydia is found. She is found, and as far as we know, she is unhurt.” 

“I don’t follow you.”

“We arrived at Longbourn just before dinnertime today. An express had arrived this very morning, directed to you, which Jane quite properly opened.”

“Yes, yes, those were my instructions.”

“Lydia arrived at my house in Gracechurch Street early Monday evening, alone. She found an empty house, no servants, no family, the knocker off the door. The servants are on holiday during our holiday. She became distraught, went into strong hysterics, and was found by our nearest neighbor, Evan Caldwell. Evan and his wife Anna have been well known to us for years, and he is well respected in the City. He is a merchant of spices and tea, and they are staunch Quakers. Evan brought her to his house, placed her in his wife’s care, and as soon as they could persuade her to speak, he sent the express to you. She had used the last of her money to take the hackney to Gracechurch Street. She knows no one else in London. Evan believes she was trying to escape her abductor and preserve her virtue.”

“Lydia. The baby. The most foolish and headstrong of the lot of them.” Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Let us hope she was headstrong enough to resist Wickham’s advances.” 

“So it would seem.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

Mr. Gardiner looked at his watch. “It is nearly nine, and they will be abed. They are early risers. My plan is to seek a bed here, since my house is closed up. And I must send word to Mr. Darcy. We can be abroad early in the morning and go to Lydia.”

“Mr. Darcy? What does he know of our troubles?”

“He was visiting us at the inn at Lambton when Jane’s letters reached Lizzie. He has been of great service already. He knows of Wickham and his evil habits, knows of his associates in London, and came here immediately to begin a search.” 

“I see,” said Mr. Bennet, though he really did not. “And will he not be carrying the tale to every corner of fashionable London?”

“No, Brother. Depend upon him. We may rely on his discretion and his secrecy. He is a better friend than you know.”

The note was quickly dispatched, and Mr. Gardiner had barely bespoken his room and his supper when Darcy himself arrived. He shook hands with both men and accepted a glass of wine. “I am enormously relieved to hear that Miss Bennet is safe,” he began. “I have located Wickham.”

“You wasted no time,” commented Mr. Gardiner. “Where is he?” 

“In a wretched haunt in a very dangerous neighborhood. Miss Bennet would not have been safe there. Indeed, I left a man to keep watch over the place and was on the brink of sending several more to get her out. Wickham has been seen coming and going regularly, but Miss Bennet has not been seen at all. There remains one question, Mr. Bennet. What do you want done with him?”

“I should like to see him transported or hanged. Or shot down in the street like a mad cur. How many other young girls has he treated in this infamous manner?”

“Probably more than we should care to count, sir,” replied Darcy. “However, we need to bear in mind that too often the innocent female suffers if these matters are brought to court, while the truly guilty person is free to go about his business as though nothing had happened.”

“Unfortunately true,” added Mr. Gardiner. “Lydia’s reputation and credit must be our first concern.”

“He is finished as far as the -shire Militia are concerned,” observed Mr. Bennet. “His debts of honor and tradesman’s debts in Brighton alone would have assured that. But Lydia was under Colonel Forster’s protection. That will not be forgotten, and he may be finished in the Army as a whole.” 

“And there are doubtless extensive debts in Meryton,” said Darcy, folding his hands on the table. “My expectation is that he will shortly end up in prison if he does not turn something else up to keep him out of it.” Darcy stood. “If you are agreeable, Mr. Bennet, I will call for you and Mr. Gardiner tomorrow at nine in my carriage and convey you to Gracechurch Street.”

Mr. Bennet extended his hand. “You will be very welcome, Mr. Darcy.” 

After shaking hands with Mr. Gardiner, Darcy bowed and left the room. 

“I wonder what that was all about,” said Mr. Bennet.

“He really is a very fine young man, Brother. And his family have been grievously wronged by George Wickham.” 

“I am very sorry to hear that, but not surprised. Wickham took great delight in abusing Darcy to us.” He sat down and took up a pen. “I must send an express to Jane before retiring.”

* * *

Lydia, when called downstairs to the Caldwell’s drawing room next morning, threw herself into her father’s arms weeping noisily but not hysterically. 

“There now, child. There now, Lydia,” said her father, patting her awkwardly. “No need for tears. You are safe, and I am here to take you home to your mother. He cannot harm you now.” 

Evan Caldwell, a tall, white-haired man, stood by, as did his wife, Anna. He tactfully ushered Darcy and Mr. Gardiner into his book room so that father and daughter might have some privacy for their reunion.

“Dry your eyes, Lydia. And try to tell me what happened.” Mr. Bennet extended his handkerchief  
and led his daughter to the sofa. 

“He promised me we would be married,” Lydia began. “He courted me for weeks, dancing with no one but me, taking me for drives and walks, avoiding all the other girls. Then, finally, he proposed on bended knee. It was very romantic, Papa.”

“I’m sure it was,” said Mr. Bennet drily.

“He told me we would go to Scotland to be married, that being the most romantic place. It took him quite some time to get the arrangements in place, but then last Sunday after church, he told me to be ready and to meet him at midnight. I was to carry only one bandbox, and we would travel north in a hired chaise.” 

“Go on, Lydia.”

“We came as far as Clapham which took until morning--oh, a long time, and then Wickham said we were to change to a hackney. I wondered about that, but he said it would be easier to get through London that way.” Lydia paused, searching her memory. “We stopped in London, in a very bad part of London. The streets were filthy, and there were poor people and half-naked children everywhere you looked. People were lying in doorways.” She shuddered. “We went into a rooming-house of some sort, and Wickham gave his name, and the landlady conducted us to a front room upstairs.” She stopped again, embarrassed to the point of blushing.

“It’s all right, child. You’re not in any trouble.” Mr. Bennet was beginning to feel distinctly out of his depth.

“It was a nasty, dirty room.” Her nose wrinkled. “And there was only one place for us to sleep. Wickham said we should lie down there, but I refused, Papa.”

“Turned him down, did you?”

“I know you think I’m one of the silliest girls in England, Papa. But I did listen to what Mama told us. I paid attention to every word. I know that’s the way you get babies. And I know what happens to girls who get babies before they are married.” She wrinkled her nose. "It's not very romantic."

“You’re a good girl and a good daughter, Lydia. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“Well, we’ve got over the most embarrassing part, Papa. Wickham told me we would be married the next day, but I would not listen to him. You cannot be married without permission if you are only sixteen unless you are in Scotland. He got very angry, and he went out and slammed the door. He locked me in. I could not get out, and I knocked and shouted, but no one would come. He came back in about an hour,” she dropped her voice. “And I could tell he had been drinking. He had a bottle of something, but I don’t think it was wine. In fact I know it wasn’t. He poured me a big glassful and said, ‘Have some of this Blue Ruin. It will make you feel much better.’ I took the glass, but it smelled awful.”

“Blue Ruin,” echoed Mr. Bennet faintly.

“Yes. He had a great deal of it, but I poured little bits of mine into the water pitcher. I know I should have choked if I had taken any of it. He fell asleep in the chair by the window, and I got my hat and took my reticule and ran out of there as fast as I could. He had forgotten to lock the door. I ran to the corner and found a hack, and the man drove me to Uncle’s house in Gracechurch Street. That’s where Evan Caldwell found me, and he brought me here, and Anna took such good care of me. And there really isn’t any more to tell. Oh. They are Quakers, Papa, so you don’t say Mr or Mrs or sir, but call them by their Christian names. And when they talk, they sound a little bit like the Bible in church.”

“Well, they certainly have been good to you.”

“I shall write Anna a long letter of thanks when I get home. Oh, when will we go home, Papa?”

“Too late to leave today,” said Mr. Bennet as he stood and looked at his watch. “We will leave tomorrow and be home tomorrow evening. Now, go and make your goodbyes to the Caldwells.”

Darcy conducted the family back to their hotel in his carriage, and as the three men were shaking hands, said “I should like to wait upon you at Longbourn in a week’s time, Sir. I can inform you of any news I have at that time.”

If Mr. Bennet thought that a letter might do as well, he said nothing. “You will be very welcome, Mr Darcy.”

* * *

The family at Longbourn were delighted with the news Jane had received from London. Mrs. Bennet, when told, had decided to rest in her room until mid-afternoon, dressing and coming downstairs in time for tea, when the travelers were expected. 

At about noon, they were surprised by a visit from Mr. Collins. Kitty fled unobserved into the recesses of the garden with her aunt and the children, leaving her three sisters to receive him. 

“I had hoped to condole with your father and mother,” said he, “On the grievous affliction you are now suffering under.” 

“Our father is still in London, Sir, and our mother has not yet left her room,” replied Jane quietly.

“Nevertheless, having received word from Hertfordshire, I feel called upon by my situation in life and my position as a clergyman--”

“Who, I wonder, could have written to you from Hertfordshire?” Elizabeth interrupted shamelessly. “Our situation is not known outside the immediate family. The Lucases most certainly have not been informed.”

“Be that as it may,” continued Mr. Collins. “Whether your sister is naturally bad, as I am inclined to believe, or whether this has resulted from a faulty degree of indulgence, her death would have been a blessing in comparison. This false step will be injurious to you all. For, as Lady Catherine has said, who will want to connect themselves with such a family?”

“Who, indeed?” cried Elizabeth, standing. “Your Hertfordshire correspondent is missing the greater portion of the story, Mr. Collins. Our sister was lured away from her protectors by a false offer of marriage. When she understood the iniquitous intentions of her captor, she fled from him into one of the worst, most dangerous quarters of London with no thought other than to preserve her virtue. She used her last farthing to pay for a hackney to Gracechurch Street, and when she found her uncle and aunt were from home, she placed herself under the protection of Evan Caldwell, one of the most respected merchants of the City, known to all for his sterling character and his God-fearing ways. The Caldwells have cared for her under their own roof until our father could reach her. No, Mr. Collins, we are not injured by her behavior. Our sister Lydia is a shining example of a young woman willing to risk death to preserve her honor.”

Elizabeth paused for breath, somewhat overcome by the brilliance of her own oratory and its effect on their visitor. Mary astonished everyone by standing and declaring, “Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.”

Jane moved swiftly to fill the breach, also standing and saying, “Our father is escorting Lydia home even now, and they are expected by tea-time. I feel sure you will respect our need to receive our sister into the arms of her immediate family after this terrible ordeal.” She looked at Elizabeth. “Our own dear Dr. Price will I am sure provide her with all spiritual comfort, just as he has since her infancy and baptism.” 

Mr. Collins was, for once, stunned into silence. At length he bowed and said, “Please convey my compliments to your honored parents.” He then turned and left the room, and they soon heard the sound of his departing carriage.

“I don’t know when I have had a more rewarding conversation,” said Elizabeth, laughing. “We must remember every particular to relate to our father. And Mary, your Scriptural reference was the crowning touch.”

“At one point, I admired him,” admitted Mary. “But he is an odious man. And I wonder who wrote to him from Hertfordshire.”

“That bears some thinking about,” replied Elizabeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Blue Ruin: Another of the many names for that British institution, gin. Other nicknames of the era were Daffy, and my personal favorite, Strip-Me-Naked.  
> 2) Mary's Scriptural reference is from the 39th chapter of the Book of Proverbs. It has unfortunately been co-opted recently by people concerned about various wifely duties. In reality, the original Hebrew reads "Woman of Valor," which is a great improvement over "virtuous woman" or the even worse "good wife."   
> 3\. This is undoubtedly my favorite chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 4

The days after Lydia’s return were surprisingly peaceful ones at Longbourne. Although everyone agreed she had behaved with surprising strength and maturity in effecting her own rescue, it took only a few days for her to return to her foolish, headstrong ways. Still, it was generally agreed in the neighborhood that she should serve as an example to other young girls of how important it was to safeguard one’s honor and virtue.

Aunt and Uncle Gardiner stayed for only a few days before leaving with the children for London, but there were several opportunities for quiet conversations with Elizabeth as they watched the children play in the garden.

“Are you still committed to this engagement, Lizzy?” began her uncle one day.

“Oh, yes. Having learned of his efforts to assist the family makes me all the more certain,” replied she. “I do love him.”

“He is a very fine young man,” added her aunt. “And he is certainly devoted to you. You must write to me immediately when you have news.” 

After the Gardiners’ departure there was nothing for Elizabeth to do but watch and wait. The following Monday, the family heard carriage-wheels on the drive. Kitty, as was her custom, ran to peer out of the window. “It is a very fine curricle,” she observed. “But who is the driver? I believe it is Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth willed herself to sit still over her embroidery, though Jane caught her eye and smiled. Darcy followed Hill into the room, greeted Mrs Bennet formally, acknowledged the sisters, and sat in a straight chair, his hat in his hand. 

“Are you come to stay at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy?” inquired Mrs. Bennet.

“No, Madam. I am staying for a few nights in the inn at Meryton.” 

“I thought you might have come down with Mr. Bingley. We are all wondering if he plans another visit.”

“I believe you may see him around Michaelmas, Madam. He is planning to come down for a few weeks of shooting.” 

“Ah. We thought he might quit the place at Michaelmas.”

“I do not believe he plans to give it up at all. In fact, it is possible he may spend more time here.” Darcy looked over at Elizabeth and Jane. 

“Well, let us hope so.”

“Mama, Mr. Darcy informed us at Pemberley of his keen interest in gardening.” Darcy raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Elizabeth continued. “I thought I might show him about some of the walks you have created here.” Turning to Darcy, she went on. “Mama planned and directed all of the installations herself, Mr. Darcy. I am sure you will admire her advantageous use of small spaces.” 

Darcy stood obligingly, while Mrs. Bennet said, “By all means, Lizzy. Remember to show him the wilderness.” She did not like Mr Darcy and was delighted to have him off her hands if only for a few minutes. Jane remained resolutely seated. 

After a sedate walk across the lawn, during which they chatted about London, Elizabeth led Darcy up the step and into the little walled garden of the wilderness. “Everyone’s favorite refuge,” she said, smiling up at him. 

“Elizabeth,” he said, taking possession of both her hands and covering them with kisses before sweeping her into his arms. “Do you still love me?” 

“How could I not?” she replied, taking his face into her hands and standing on tiptoe so that she could kiss him. “I love you more! I cannot bear to be apart from you.” He returned the kiss ardently, and when she felt she must breathe or die, she clung to his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. 

“My heart belongs to you,” he murmured, stroking her lips with his fingers. And after a long moment, he added, “I must speak with your father.” 

She kissed him gently and whispered against his mouth, “And are you ready?” 

“One more kiss,” he replied, suiting his actions to his words. Then he retrieved his hat, which had fallen nearby, smoothed a lock of hair away from Elizabeth’s face, and offered her his arm. “Lead on,” he said with a smile. “I am ready.” 

Elizabeth hung back. “I believe I will wait here for you, dearest. I am not quite ready to face my mother.” 

“A wise choice. I will come for you here when it is all over.” And with that he placed his hat on his head and strode across the lawn. 

Elizabeth spent a very uncomfortable twenty minutes in the wilderness awaiting Darcy’s return. When he did come back, he was smiling. “All is well,” he began. “Go to your father in his library. He wants to see you. I will rejoin your mother and sisters.” 

“Are you out of your senses to be accepting this man?” Mr. Bennet’s opening words did not sound encouraging. But Elizabeth had an answer for every argument, and by the end of their brief conversation, she had convinced her father of Darcy’s worth and of her sincere attachment. 

As expected, Elizabeth’s sisters gathered around to exclaim over her and embrace her before the younger ones began to talk of being bridesmaids. Mrs. Bennet was silenced for a full half-minute before she began to wonder and bless herself, to question Mr. Darcy concerning his favorite dishes, and to consider who in the neighborhood should be first to receive the great news. Mr. Bennet arrived on the scene to extend an invitation to him to remove from the inn and spend the rest of his stay at Longbourne. “After all,” he said. “You can do so now with complete propriety. And I flatter myself that this house is more comfortable than the inn. If anyone wants me, I will be in my library.”

Darcy’s things were brought in from the curricle, as he had not yet bespoken his room in Meryton, and Mrs. Bennet hurried away to dress, having decided that Lady Lucas would be the first recipient of her news. The sisters scattered to their own apartments and occupations, and Darcy and Elizabeth were left standing by the fireplace in the drawing-room. After he kissed her with great discretion and one eye on the door, Elizabeth put her hands on his chest and said, “Sir, we have not yet finished our tour of the garden. My mother will be disappointed if I do not show you the hermitage.”

“And is it a very private hermitage?” he asked, stealing another kiss. 

“Yes, very private. The hermit will not mind us at all.”

The next three days were nothing short of idyllic for the newly engaged couple. The perfect late-summer weather invited long country walks and shared confidences. She was afraid of horses because the girls’ single riding-horse had once bitten her. He preferred London hours to country hours and needed an ironclad self-discipline to rise at a decent hour when at Pemberley. She detested stitchery of any kind but smuggled candles upstairs in order to read novels. He avoided Shakespeare’s comedies in favor of the tragedies and histories. She longed to read all of Shakespeare in its original, unexpurgated version. Both were happiest in the country. And both envisioned a nursery full of beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed children who looked like the other parent. “We must have horrid little boys,” said Elizabeth. “And dear little girls.”

“And they must all resemble their mother,” interrupted Darcy.”

“Except those that look like their handsome papa,” she finished for him. 

They took a final walk in the garden on the morning of his departure. “I don’t know how I shall go on without you,” sighed Elizabeth. “When will you return?”

“Soon, my dearest. I must see my solicitor about the settlement and return here to review it with your father. It is nothing you need to be concerned about. You and our children will always be provided for, and your father and I have already discussed that.” 

Their plans for the wedding had been easily settled. Mrs. Bennet’s arguments in favor of St. George’s Hanover Square and a special license had been easily overcome in favor of Elizabeth’s wish that the wedding take place at their familiar parish in Longbourn, presided over by their dear Dr. Price, with her sisters surrounding her, and in the presence of their families and their dearest friends. Michaelmas had been tentatively fixed as the time, and one of Darcy’s tasks would be to acquaint Mr. Bingley with the plans in the hope that Netherfield could be counted on to entertain some of their guests. Darcy was certain this could be so, though he would not confess even to Elizabeth his hope that another wedding might be the result. Elizabeth and her mother would make at least one journey to London in search of the all-important wedding clothes. 

They stood in the little wilderness saying their goodbyes. “Write to me, Elizabeth. Now that we are engaged, we can write as often as we please.” 

“I have not forgotten.” Elizabeth drew a sealed letter from her pocket and placed it in his. “And here is a letter you may read this evening when you get home.” 

Darcy seized her hands and kissed them over and over, as he loved to do, before drawing her into an embrace. 

Elizabeth stood with her parents and sisters on the sweep, waving farewell, determined that he should not see her cry. After he had driven away, her sister Jane threw her arm about Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Dearest Lizzie,” she said in her soft voice. “You will not have too many more farewells.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief, idyllic interlude. It provides me with the chance of thanking everyone for their kind notes and for the kudos. Sincerely appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 5

_The basilisk eyes grew steadily colder and angrier as she read through the letter from Hertfordshire, and by the time she had finished it, her anger was terrible indeed. “This is not to be borne,” she said between clenched teeth. She rang for the footman. “Have the coachman prepare the barouche for a journey to London,” she said. “I leave tomorrow morning after breakfast.”_

_A day later, she sat at the escritoire in the small back parlor of her London house drumming her sharp nails on the bare, polished wood. A closed ledger sat on the desk; an inkstand and writing materials were the only other furnishings. The disheveled young man was forced to stand before her like a troublesome schoolboy, an insult which he bore with his customary wide eyed, obsequious, half smile._

_“This is intolerable,” she began, taking up a letter and shaking it under his nose. “Not only did you let that ridiculous chit slip through your fingers, but my nephew is now engaged to the older girl, just as I had feared. The settlement is being drafted as we speak. This is the outside of enough! And what do you propose to do about it?”_

_“Well, ma’am-”_

_She opened a drawer and removed several sheets of paper. “This,” she spat, shaking one sheaf, “is a list of your creditors in Meryton. And this is a list of your creditors in Brighton.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are nearly rolled up, Wickham. In the basket, as they say. The vultures are gathering, and they will be merciless. You have but one hope.”_

_“Yes, ma’am."_

_“I want her destroyed. Not killed, not literally destroyed. I want her ruined, and I want her to live with the certainty of that ruin for the rest of her life. I want her entire family brought down by the enormity of her disgrace. My nephew is to be made to understand that he crosses me at his peril. Do you understand me?_

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

_She drew out a bank draft and handed it to him. “Spend this wisely, Wickham. Use it to hire whomever you need and to pay off our mutual acquaintance. I shall expect to be closely informed of your progress. And for God’s sake, bespeak yourself some decent shirts and have someone do something about those disgraceful boots.”_

_“Thank you, ma’am. I’m most exceedingly grateful.” He pocketed the draft, bowed, and left the house._

* * *

Some days after Darcy’s departure, Elizabeth admitted to herself that her sleep was troubled. Apart from the sometimes fevered kisses and embraces she had shared with him, she knew very little about the ways of men and women with each other. Now, in his absence, she found herself awakening from dreams that were both inexpressibly sweet and deeply disturbing. She was intelligent enough to conclude that this had somehow been caused by her love for him, and his for her, and that it would all turn out right in the end. After all, she did not notice other women dragging perpetually through their days half-asleep. Her efforts to fall asleep by extensive reading with her smuggled candles were unavailing. What did help, she noticed, was exercise. 

Always a notable walker, Elizabeth was now out of the house every chance she could get. Careful to wear a bonnet to preserve her complexion from ruin before her wedding day, she walked and ran up hills and down them, across meadows, down country lanes. She begged Hill for errands that would take her into Meryton and returned with baskets of marketing or with the post. Her mother, anxious to talk of laces and worked muslins, despaired of her. Still, Mrs Bennet was forced to declare that she had never seen her second daughter in greater beauty. And Elizabeth’s  
sisters certainly agreed. 

Longbourn was sufficiently distant from the main roads that the girls had always been allowed to wander freely. Strangers were seldom observed, and the lanes were generally traversed by local farmers with carts, neighboring gentry in carriages, housewives carrying baskets, and drovers or shepherds with various herds and flocks. The neighborhood had always been entirely safe, and the girls had always walked with perfect freedom and confidence. The late summer signaled the time for hay-making and for the harvest of wheat, oats, and barley, and farm workers dotted the adjoining fields. 

One morning, Elizabeth struck out on her own, very early, and decided to walk to Oakham Mount. As she passed through the front hall, she encountered Hill and took the time to inform the housekeeper of her destination and to promise faithfully to return in time to eat a good breakfast. “I have a great deal to do today to get ready for Mr. Darcy’s visit tomorrow,” she smiled. “I will need one of your good breakfasts.” 

Then she was outside in the crisp, cool, early morning. Elizabeth hugged herself with excitement, for a letter had arrived the day before informing her that Darcy would be with her the next day. She had only this one day to get through, and then she would see him. 

The turnoff for Oakham Mount led off the same lane that eventually led into Meryton, and Elizabeth was not surprised to see a horse drawn cart and two men. They were obviously farm workers, undoubtedly desirous of hiring themselves out to help with the local harvest. Elizabeth ignored them and turned up the path that led up the mountain. 

The dappled shade was cool and welcoming, and Elizabeth breathed deeply as she quickened her steps. She intended to walk up the hill as fast as she could so that she could take some time to enjoy the view. 

“Not a word, my fine lady-bird. You keep mum, and no harm will come to ye.” 

The accent Elizabeth heard was not Hertfordshire but pure urban London. The words were the last she would hear for many hours. 

* * *

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Hill bobbed a curtsey, entered the library, and closed the door. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but I’m concerned.”

“What is it, Mrs. Hill?” The housekeeper was one of the few sensible women in his household, and Mr. Bennet appreciated that. He was normally inclined to listen to her, and she did not bother him often. 

“It’s Miss Elizabeth, sir. She did not come in for breakfast.” 

“And were we expecting her?” Mr. Bennet knew that his favorite daughter preferred long, solitary walks.

“Yes, sir. She particularly wanted to be home in time for breakfast so that she could make ready for Mr. Darcy’s visit tomorrow.” 

“And did she say where she was going?” The wood-cased clock showed that it wanted only ten minutes of noon. 

“Yes, sir. A walk up Oakham Mount. “The path is steep, sir. I thought she might have turned an ankle or had a fall.”

“That makes sense, Mrs. Hill. Send two of the boys up there to get her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t say anything to the rest of the family.”

Mrs. Hill was as good as her word. She called two of her own sons, James and Timothy, in from the fields--well-grown, sensible young men who knew the surrounding area and who were familiar from childhood with the odd habits of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. 

The weather had been particularly fine, to the benefit of the harvest, and while there was no mud, they did find quite a muddle of footprints in the dust at the turnoff to the path. “What d’you make of it, Tim?” asked his brother.

“Here’s Miss Elizabeth’s little boot, coming in from home,” Tim began. “But there’s been at least two men in rough boots here with a horse and cart, and they came from the direction of the village.” He frowned. “And they turned round and went back where they came from.” Both knew that the lane, having passed the village, wound eventually to the high road and thence southward to London. 

“Aye, you’ve got the right of it.” Jem wiped his forehead and stood up. “Well, let’s see what’s up the path.”

They did not like what they saw. Keeping to the weed-grown sides of the path, they noted that Elizabeth’s small, light footprints made their way up the hill, and so did those of the two men. But there were only two sets of prints leading back down. The glove, when they saw it, seemed to mark an area where the footprints were jumbled together. It was a lady’s glove of sensible York tan, slightly worn, very small, unmistakably Miss Bennet’s. The pair divided their forces, searching the wooded area to either side of the path, up to the top of the hill and then turning to search all the way back down. 

When they reached the bottom, the brothers regarded each other hopelessly. “Best run for the constable, Tim. I’ll get back to Longbourn. Make sure you show Constable these tracks and marks on your way back. They’ll not last long in this dry weather.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. What else is there to say?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”  
> _

### Chapter 6

The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”

The next morning found Mary Bennet seated at a table placed on the carriage sweep at Longbourn. Barrels of water and homebrewed ale stood next to her, and tired men rode or walked up the drive to refresh themselves as she wrote down what they were reporting to her before consulting a list and sending them back out.

It was here that Darcy found her when he drove up in his curricle shortly after ten. “Assisting with the harvest, Miss Mary?” His greeting was cheerful. One of the men set down his cup of ale, came to the leaders’ heads, and led the curricle to the stable after Darcy jumped down. Mary stood, and he noted that her face was pinched and white, the usual dark circles under her eyes contrasting alarmingly with her pale skin. 

“Miss Mary, are you well? What is the matter?” He strode to her side and offered her his arm, noting that she leaned on it as an old woman might. 

“Take over here, please, Jem,” she said to one of the men. “Mr. Darcy, let us walk over to the wilderness.” 

Once they had gained the cover of the trees she turned to him, a look of helplessness in her dark eyes. “It’s Elizabeth,” she began. “She has disappeared. We fear she may have been abducted. Those men and many more have been out searching for her all night.” She quickly provided the details of Jem and Tim’s investigation, the footprints and tracks leading towards the London road, and the recovery of Elizabeth’s glove.

Darcy, in utter ignorance of the surrounding terrain, cursed his uselessness and considered what he could do to be of most use. Mr. Bennet had been out searching all night. Mrs. Bennet had uncharacteristically laid aside her histrionics and was deeply asleep, thanks largely to a composer mixed for her by Jane, who was supervising her care. The other girls, scared and silent, were working under Hill’s direction in the large kitchen, for there were many mouths to feed. Mary had dried her eyes and resumed her work of coordinating the search. At one point she caught Darcy’s eye and shook her head hopelessly. They were running out of places to look. The mill pond had   
been dragged, as had the marshy area between Netherfield and Longbourn. Women began to lay out food on trestles set up on the lawn beside the house. 

Mr. Bennet rode up shortly before noon and slid gratefully from his horse. He had not slept, and he was pale, filthy, and unshaven. He swallowed a cup of ale as he spoke in a voice that could barely be heard. “It begins to look as though Lizzie has been carried off,” he said bleakly. “It’s as if the earth opened and swallowed her up.” 

“She is somewhere, sir, and we will find her,” said Darcy, unable to think of anything else that might be of comfort. 

As men began gathering on the lawn to eat, Darcy and Mr. Bennet were approached by a plump, comfortable woman of middle age who was dragging a young boy by his elbow. She bobbed a curtsey and said, “Go on, tell these gentlemen what you told me.” The child ducked his head. 

Darcy folded his height down to the child’s eye level. “What’s your name, lad?”

“Ezra, sir.”

“Well, Ezra, you’re not in any trouble. Why don’t you tell us what you told your mother. You might help us.” 

“I took dog’s leave from school yesterday.” 

“Ah, you wanted to work on the harvest.” 

“No, sir. I wanted conkers. But it’s too soon.”

“And what happened?”

“I saw two men with a horse and cart. I never did see those men before. They were strangers. And something was in the cart. I thought it was some kind of animal like a dog, maybe, or a litter of kittens. It was under some blankets or rags or such. It was moving.” 

“What time of day was this, Ezra?” 

“About this time, sir.” 

“And which way was the cart going?” 

The child pointed. “Towards the road to Lunnon, sir.” 

“Very good, Ezra. Just one more thing. What did the men look like?”

“Well, sir, I couldn’t see their faces. They had their hats pulled down. They were wearing smock-frocks like we wears, but I couldn’t see the rest of them for the cart.” He paused and knit his brows. “Nice horse, though. Good worker. Big gray gelding.” 

“Like a farm horse?” 

“No, sir. Not a cob, neither. Like a gentry horse. Too big and stout for a hunter. Mebbe a carriage horse.” 

Darcy stood. “Ezra, you’ve helped us a great deal. It’s a good thing you told your mother.” A coin of unspecified value changed hands, and Ezra’s eyes lit up. “No more taking dog’s leave from school. You must mind your book, or you’ll never get on.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Ezra’s mother sketched another curtsey and the pair walked down the drive and out of sight. 

“We checked with the toll-gates for miles in both directions,” said Mr. Bennet. “But we had no description other than that of two men in a farm cart.” We learned nothing in either direction.” 

“At least now we know what the horse looks like,” observed Darcy. “It’s entirely possible they changed to some other conveyance.” He turned to Mr. Bennet. “Sir, will you accompany me indoors?”

“I must ride out to the search again.”

“You are of necessity leading the search in this area,” said Darcy. “I can be of very little help. My ignorance of the district, its terrain and inhabitants, renders me all but useless. But you cannot continue without proper food and rest. You owe it to your daughter to sustain yourself now.” 

The two men turned toward the house and entered the library. Darcy requested that a cold luncheon be brought for Mr. Bennet, and the two settled in comfortable chairs. 

“My purpose in coming here was originally much happier.” Darcy reached into his breast pocket. “I have the settlement we agreed to, prepared for your signature.” He opened the sheaf of papers and placed it on the desk. “I have already signed it. I would like for you to add your signature.”

“But why?” asked Mr. Bennet. “Something may change.”

“Nothing can change. I believe she is alive, and I will spend the rest of my life searching for her if need be. This marriage settlement has become an act of faith.” 

For that reason, the imposing document ultimately bore the name and signature of “Mrs. Anne Hill, Housekeeper” in the space marked out for the witness to Mr. Bennet’s signature. 

After he had satisfied himself that Mr. Bennet had eaten and drunk, Darcy stood and extended his hand. “Now, sir, I will return to London.” 

“But--”

“I believe I may be of more use there, sir. The search here, while it is far from over, has not yielded any fruit aside from the single glove. The boy Ezra’s description of the cart horse was singularly helpful: Not a cob nor a draft horse but a gentry horse. Two men in farmers’ smocks with a simple cart and a fine carriage horse.” 

“Any boy growing up in this district would know his horses,” added Mr. Bennet. 

“I believe we must expand our search to include London, and I am the man to do that.” 

“Mr. Darcy, you are right.” Mr. Bennet shook the outstretched hand. “Let us keep in close touch by means of the express.” 

As Darcy left the house and asked one of the men to see about his curricle, Mary stood up. “Could I trouble you to take one more stroll over to the wilderness?” she said with a weary smile.

Darcy offered her his arm. “Of course.” 

She did not speak until they had entered the seclusion of the small space. She sat on one of the benches and said, “I can make no logical sense of what I am about to tell you,” she began. “But sometimes logical inconsistencies are a signal that something is amiss. I had put this out of my mind after it occurred, but the loss of Lizzie has made me recall it. Please bear with me.” She began folding and refolding her handkerchief into small pleats. “On the day that our father brought Lydia home, we received a morning call from Mr. Collins.”

“The parson from Hunsford?”

“The very same. He came to condole with us on Lydia’s reputed fall from grace. He said . . . he said that he had been prompted to make the visit after receiving word from Hertfordshire. Those were his words: Word from Hertfordshire.” She paused and looked directly at Darcy. “Mr. Darcy, I do not see how that can be true.” 

“The Lucases?”

“That would be the most logical solution, and it may yet turn out to be true. But Lydia left Brighton on Sunday at midnight. We received word twenty-four hours later on Monday at midnight. Hill was with us, and my mother cried a great deal, but nothing much was said about the situation. It pays to bear in mind that our servants do not get along with those at Lucas Lodge. There is a feeling below stairs that the staff at Lucas Lodge are high-and-mighty for no particular reason. And on the   
other hand, the servants at Lucas Lodge are envious because my father pays our people better wages. The gossip does not flow.” She paused for breath. “The days of the week are all wrong for marketing, which would have been done on Saturday. And we did not see my Aunt Phillips until toward the end of that week, so there was not enough time for her to make a hue and cry. Gossip as a source of their news is possible, but it is not likely. There was not time.”

“Well done, Miss Mary. You have been an astute observer.” 

“I should also tell you, sir, that Lizzie felt the same way. In fact, she interrupted Mr. Collins to ask him who his correspondent was.”

“And what did he say?”

“He passed over it--ignored it. We did not discuss it afterward. Her remarks signaled the beginning of a general uprising among Jane, Lizzie, and myself in which Mr. Collins was made so uncomfortable that he left the house rather abruptly.” 

Darcy could not forbear to smile. “I should like to have seen that. I will be keeping in close touch with your father. Send me word through him if anything else occurs to you.” His eyes grew serious. “And, I implore you, get some rest. You must keep up your strength in order to help the family. This is the same request I made of your father.” 

“I will.” Mary extended her hand, which he shook. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, on behalf of my family. You have given me faith that Lizzie will be found and restored to us. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye for now, Miss Mary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting the chapters a little more slowly after this, as the beta reading and editing chores become much greater when there is a mystery to be solved. But they'll still be coming along pretty regularly.
> 
> My sincere appreciation to all who have written!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 7

Her head ached abominably, not only from the blow she had been dealt but from whatever drug they added to the water they had given her to drink. She had determined to take only enough water to keep dire thirst at bay, and she attempted to hold it in her mouth and spit it out rather than swallowing it. She knew that she was in a cellar; it was icy-cold and damp, it smelled of mold, and to her horror, she could hear scufflings and chitterings undoubtedly made by rats. Elizabeth Bennet was a resourceful young woman, but nothing--not even the latest Gothic novels--had prepared her for what seemed to be her new reality. 

She could clearly recall her capture and her concealment, blindfolded, beneath the pile of ragged, filthy blankets in the back of the cart. She had dropped one of her gloves along the path and had managed, with considerable effort, to remove the second glove in spite of the cords that bound her wrists behind her back. The lout who had blindfolded her had torn off her bonnet impatiently, and she had no idea of what had become of it. 

They had jounced for what seemed like hours along the lane, and when her two captors finally called a halt, Elizabeth had pleaded the call of Nature. She was led to a break in the hedgerow beside the lane and required to close her eyes while her blindfold was removed and the bonds loosened. A quick and frantic sweep with her eyes revealed that they were nearly to the turnoff for London. The gray horse that had pulled the farm cart was being removed from the traces and led up the hill and between the trees to a carriage where another gray was already in place. A third man, also clad in a smock, seemed to be overseeing the change. His face was hidden by his hat and a kerchief. Elizabeth continued to squat low so that she could take in as much as possible. When the horses were ready, one of her captors came for her, wordlessly grasped her by the arm, hauled her up, and re-tied her blindfold. She managed to drop the other glove in the middle of the lane before being dragged up the hill and through the trees, and unceremoniously bundled into the carriage. She thought she could hear the cart being pushed out of the way, and in a few moments, one of her captors entered the carriage, sat on the opposite seat, and the carriage moved off--presumably on the road to London. 

Now that she was in the cellar, Elizabeth gathered her forces and decided to ignore the chitterings and scufflings as well as her headache, so that she could learn what she might about her present condition. The ceiling above her was wood, and she could hear hurrying footsteps above--both the heavier steps of men and the lighter footfalls of women. A door opened and closed frequently, and she could hear loud bursts of conversation as from a crowd of people. She attempted to attune her hearing further outward, and she found she could hear the usual traffic of a busy London street; horse drawn conveyances of all types, people on foot, the cries of people hawking all manner of goods, and every other sound one might expect to hear in the city. 

Her eyes told her nothing. She found herself continually blinking and opening them wider but realized that this was instinctive as they tried to make some sense of what they could not see. Her nose, however, seemed to be telling her a great deal. She recognized the mustiness and damp smell, and there was a faint overlying smell of mice--or perhaps rats. But the pervasive odor in her prison was sharp and sour, and she could not place it. She lay very still and tried to concentrate, tried to associate the odor with something in her experience. The closest she could come, after considerable thought, was the taste of certain Rhenish wines her father occasionally enjoyed. Though he referred to the taste as “dry and refreshing,” the less-well-educated palates of his daughters ran more to “strong and sour.” She might be in a place where wine or spirits were served. The light and heavy footfalls might be those of serving-men and -women, and the bursts of conversation might occur when a door was opened into a tap room or coffee room. If she was in London, perhaps it was a club or restaurant. The aromas of cooking also reached her, but these seemed much more faint. It came to her that she might be in a wine-cellar. 

Elizabeth felt exhausted by her efforts. She lay still, huddling under the single, rough blanket, and tried to compose herself for sleep, ignoring her throbbing head. She had just managed to doze off when her prison was suddenly illuminated by the light from a lantern. The brightness was painful, and it took several uncomfortable moments for her to begin to see. 

The lantern became stationary--hung on a nail or peg--and Elizabeth was astonished to see that her visitor was a woman. Her tall, thin form was clothed in a shapeless gray cotton garment, little better than a chemise, and a white apron--none too clean--was tied about her waist. Wisps of faded blonde, graying hair escaped from a white mob cap, also none too clean. She carried a basket, which she set on a stool and proceeded to open before speaking. 

“On your feet,” she began, grasping Elizabeth’s arm and hauling her up. She pointed to a pail in the corner of the room. “You’ll relieve yourself there for the time being. You may do so now if you’ve a need to. I’ll untie your wrists, but you’re not to try anything. I’m stronger than I look, and they know I’m down here and how long I’ve been with you.” 

Elizabeth, stumbling a little, gratefully availed herself of the bucket and returned to the mattress. The woman had unpacked and laid out cold mutton, bread, cheese, and a flask. She gestured to the mattress. “You’re to sit there and eat what’s been set out. You’ll only get two meals a day until they decide what to do with you. Best hope you get to stay here, but you’ll have to prove yourself a biddable girl before that’s decided. Girls who cause trouble have a difficult time.”

Elizabeth sat on the mattress and started on her supper. She chewed the first bites slowly but could detect no telltale bitterness, even in the strong mutton. She masked her distaste for the stale food and finished what had been given her before turning to the flask. It contained what appeared to be plain water. She tasted the first sip carefully, again looking for the bitterness of opium, and when she found none, she drank thirstily. She had decided not to press her luck by engaging the woman in conversation, but she did take quick looks at her surroundings as unobtrusively as she could. The pool of lantern light revealed only a low ceiling, a stone floor, and stone walls. She guessed that the room she was in was about twelve feet square, but aside from the stool where the basket was sitting, it had no other features. 

She sat back and folded her hands to signal that she had finished the meal, stealing glances at her captor. 

“Good girl,” the woman said. “What are you looking at? Has my face turned green?” 

“No, ma’am,” replied Elizabeth. “I’m trying to place your accent. You don’t sound as though you are from London.” 

“In such places as these, it is better not to ask,” replied the woman. “But since you have, I’ll tell you. I’m as much a gentleman’s daughter as you are, Miss Bennet. My father was a clergyman, rector of a fine parish in--well, it does not matter where. Now, turn around, please, so that I can bind your wrists again.” 

Once Elizabeth’s wrists had been secured, her captor picked up the lantern and the basket and departed, leaving Elizabeth in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just how does a gentleman's daughter, the gently nurtured child of a clergyman, find herself in such a predicament?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 8

Darcy strode into his house on Brook Street, ordered that supper be brought to him in his book room, and summoned a footman. While the man waited, Darcy scribbled a note and handed it to him with orders to take the carriage and return with the note’s recipient. 

He was just finishing his supper when the door opened and the butler announced, “Sergeant Parker, sir.” Parker, a tall, plainly dressed man of about thirty with a pronounced limp, strode into the room with a crisp, “Good evening, sir” and was invited by Darcy to sit down. 

“My betrothed, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, has been abducted,” said Darcy without preamble, handing the man a glass of port and pouring another for himself. 

Parker stared at him incredulously. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Sister of Miss Lydia Bennet? Of Hertfordshire?”

“The very same.”

“If you’ll pardon my saying so, sir, the first question that comes to mind is what anyone could have against a set of genteel young ladies from Hertfordshire.” 

Darcy scowled, and his eyes grew darker and more intense, if that were possible. “I think we can dispose of that question fairly easily, Parker. There are five Bennet sisters, and they live quietly with their father and mother on a small but comfortable estate near the town of Meryton. What could anyone have against them?” He finished his port and refilled his glass. “One of them has had the temerity to accept an offer of marriage from me.” 

Parker sipped his port, which was very fine. “I see. And this marriage must somehow be prevented by some person--or persons--who do not wish it to take place.” He regarded Darcy from beneath lowered brows. “And this person--or these persons--care nothing for the Bennet sisters, who may go hang as long as the objective is achieved.” 

“You have the right of it.” And Darcy proceeded to place all the information he had concerning Elizabeth’s disappearance at Parker’s disposal. He did not neglect to include Mary Bennet’s observations about the visit from Mr. Collins. The two men talked far into the night, and the level of port in the bottle decreased markedly. 

Sergeant Benjamin Parker, son of a family of Derbyshire farmers, had served long years with Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, who regarded his abilities and integrity with sincere respect. A French bullet to the thigh on the Peninsula had ended Parker’s service abruptly. Colonel Fitzwilliam, aware of the man’s true worth and aware of his ties to Derbyshire, sent a worried plea to his cousin Darcy. The letter had borne fruit. Parker’s powers of observation, his ability to lead and oversee other men, his ability to plan, and his sharp attention to the smallest detail had made him an invaluable employee. Darcy’s responsibilities included overseeing the family’s far-flung investments, and Parker was was efficient, effective, and reliable. His wound did not trouble him greatly despite the limp. He exercised rigorously, and Darcy had facilitated his entrance into Jackson’s boxing club. Each man respected the other. Parker was undoubtedly the best choice to conduct Darcy’s investigations in London. 

At length, Parker was ready to sketch out preliminary plans. “This warrants a great deal more careful planning, sir. But for now, I will increase the watch being kept on George Wickham so that he is not able to move without our knowing it.” Palmer paused and lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Darcy, who nodded. The sergeant extracted his pipe, which he lit and puffed meditatively. 

After a time, he went on. “We must write to Mr. Bennet to inquire if anything has been seen of that farm cart. The use of a carriage horse suggests that the cart was abandoned in favor of a carriage or other fast conveyance with additional horses at some point near the London road. That should be checked carefully, especially with respect to evidence of other horses kept waiting while the abduction took place.”

Parker stretched his leg out toward the fire. “These are but the preliminaries. Based upon what we learn from Mr. Bennet concerning the cart and horses, we will need to begin detailed inquiries at every toll-gate and posting inn between there and London. Fortunately the distance is not too great--less than thirty miles. I will supervise that questioning with the help of two reliable men.” Parker seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of reliable men, most of them, like himself, veterans of the war in Spain. 

“Meanwhile, if I may suggest, sir, your time will be most efficiently employed by initiating inquiries with respect to Mrs. Younge.”

“I can have my solicitors begin tomorrow. I understand she has made some investments recently, but I know little aside from that. I will also prepare a letter to Mr. Bennet with your inquiry to be sent express. And I will speak to the head groom about arranging to place any necessary horses at your disposal.” Darcy stood, and the two men shook hands. “Is there anything else you require immediately?”

“No, sir. I’ll wait on you with a report, and we can discuss further plans then. 

After Parker had left, Darcy prepared the express for Mr. Bennet as well as a detailed letter of instructions for his solicitor. He wrote to Mrs. Annesley at Pemberley directing that Georgiana stay there until further notice. His final letter was to his steward at Pemberley directing that a discreet but careful watch be kept over his sister. When he had prepared all his letters, he sat at his desk, deep in thought. He would wait upon Charles Bingley to ask him to open the house at Netherfield. The additional men, horses, and conveyances would be of benefit to the search in Hertfordshire. He had one additional call that must be paid, and he dreaded it, for it was a visit to his friends in Gracechurch Street. He sought his bed, praying that sleep would come, knowing that it would not. As he put out the candle he reflected that he would not have an unbroken night’s sleep until Elizabeth Bennet lay beside him, his ring on her finger.

* * *

Morning found Darcy up early and at the stables, conferring with his head groom about Sergeant Parker’s requirements. He then breakfasted and left the house to go to Gracechurch Street, where he knew the family would be finishing breakfast. He sent in his card and asked particularly to speak to Mr. Gardiner, who soon emerged from the breakfast-parlor to greet him. 

Taking note of the serious look on Darcy’s face as they shook hands, Mr. Gardiner showed him into the small, crowded room he used as an office. Darcy began without ceremony. “Everyone is in good health, but I bring you bad news.” He squared his shoulders and went on resolutely. “Elizabeth disappeared while out walking day before yesterday. An extensive search is being carried out in the neighborhood surrounding Longbourn, but thus far it has been unavailing. There is some evidence she may have been brought here to London.” 

Mr. Gardiner stared at him, speechless. “You are saying that Elizabeth is lost?” he finally managed. 

“Precisely,” replied Darcy. “I cannot tell you how deeply I regret being the bearer of such news. Everything possible is being done to find and recover her, both here and in Hertfordshire. We are in daily communication communication between here and Longbourne.” As he had with Benjamin Parker, Darcy put Mr. Gardiner in possession of all the facts that had been gathered so far. He ended by saying, “I hope to hear from Mr. Bennet tomorrow, and I will send word to you immediately.” He passed one hand over his eyes. 

“My next question is an obvious one,” said Mr. Gardiner. “How may I be of service in this?”

“I will know more after I speak to my solicitor this afternoon,” replied Darcy. “There is a woman, a Mrs Younge, and I believe she has had a hand in this as well as George Wickham. She has a rooming-house in -- Street. It may well be that with your connections in commerce and the City, you would have access to news that I might not hear. Acquisitions of property would be very interesting.”

“I will listen for news and talk concerning any enterprises involving the acquisition of new property,” said Mr. Gardiner. “And I will do so with the utmost discretion.” 

The two men shook hands, and Darcy took his leave. His next call was on Bingley at the house on Grosvenor Street. To his great relief, the ladies were still out of town for the summer, and he was shown into the library where Bingley and Mr. Hurst were settled comfortably with the newspapers.

“Darcy!” cried Bingley, getting to his feet. “How do you get on with the plans for the wedding?” His open face took on an expression of deep shock as Darcy gave him the news about the loss of Elizabeth.

Surprisingly, it was Hurst who spoke up first. “Damned savages whoever they are,” he observed with considerable asperity. He shook out his paper and set it down before continuing. “I barely know Bennet. Only met the man two or three times. But, by God, he has the right to enjoy his own manor without having his children carried off one by one from beneath his nose. I don’t know who’s doing it, but they should be found and shot.”

Bingley, much more quietly, asked Darcy how he could best be of service. He listened carefully as Darcy outlined his request that he return to Netherfield. “Mr. Bennet is a capable man, and well known in the district,” Darcy concluded. “But there is no one else of his standing who may be relied on. The Lucases should be kept at arm’s length in this, and Mrs. Bennet’s relations are incurable gossips.”

“I shall give the orders immediately,” replied Bingley. “Stay where you are, Darcy. I’ll be back directly.”

He was as good as his word, returning to Darcy within fifteen minutes. “A man is ready to leave in a few minutes to alert the housekeeper,” he began. “And I will leave tomorrow at noon. I shall wait on Mr. Bennet without delay.” His face took on an expression of deep concern as he and Darcy shook hands. “Don’t worry. Elizabeth will be found. She must be found.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye on Sergeant Parker. He's not going away. The British weren't too advanced in their treatment of veterans and wounded soldiers, and there were many who thought they caused a crime problem in London. But I assure you, Parker is a good man.
> 
> Setting the Darcy house on Brook Street was a direct borrow from "Forces of Passion." The more I looked at Brook Street and maps of London, the more I realized it was the ideal setting for Darcy's home in this story. The best thing I learned about Brook Street is that Handel, the famous composer, and Jim Morrison, the great musician, lived in houses next door to each other on Brook Street--though a couple of centuries apart. Both are designated by historical markers. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has written, and I won't neglect to write back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 9

Darcy’s express arrived at Longbourn as Mr. Bennet was preparing to ride out to search. “He confirms what we are already doing,” he informed Jane and Hill, who stood with him in the front hallway. We will continue to search for the cart and any signs of a carriage. Mr. Darcy has men ready to act on any information we gather. He has told your Uncle Gardiner,” he shook his head sadly at Jane. “And Wickham will be watched without interruption, twenty-four hours a day.” He turned to Hill. “Please let them know to be ready in the stables for men and horses at any given time.” Hill bobbed a curtsey and left.

“Now, Jane,” he said, taking her hand. “How is your mother faring? And how are you?”

“I am fine, Papa,” said Jane in her quiet voice. “The other girls are helping a great deal, and we have managed so that one of us is always with her. Mary is continuing to record the areas searched, though she is running out of places to send people. She is now doing that work from a corner of the kitchen.” Jane sighed. “I only wish I had better news about Mama.” 

“I don’t hear any hysterics from upstairs.”

“There aren’t any, Papa. The doctor was here again yesterday. He now believes Mama has suffered a stroke--a very slight stroke from which she may recover with care. Her powers of speech are somewhat affected, but there is no paralysis. Mama was shocked--truly shocked--by all of this. In fact," here Jane put her hand over her eyes, unable for a moment to continue. "In fact, last night she awoke from a dreadful nightmare. All she could say was, 'My babies!' It was pitiful to see. During the day, she mostly sleeps or turns her head to the window and weeps silently. I am not to give her any more laudanum, and we are trying to soothe her with warm milk and chamomile tea. Her appetite will not be tempted.” 

Mr. Bennet placed his hands on his daughter’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. “And I have neglected her shamefully,” he said quietly. “I will come and sit with her this evening and try to calm her fears. These events would be trying to any mother.”

“Or any father, Papa.” Jane squeezed his hand. “I’m going upstairs to rest now so that I can be ready for the night watch.” 

Unbeknownst to Jane and her father, the searchers were already hard at work investigating the same information Darcy had forwarded in his letter. William Archer, a farmer out walking his fields at daybreak, found the abandoned farm cart in the ditch behind his hedgerow. He knew precisely what he was looking at, sent word to Longbourn, and watched the cart so that it would not be disturbed. The young Hills--Jem and Tim--had gained a great deal of respect in the district for their powers of observation, and the farmer assumed they would be brought along. It did not take him long to find the tan glove lying covered with dust in the middle of the lane. He marked its resting place with a stone, picked it up, and held it carefully. Neighbors began to gather, and Archer carefully prevented anyone from meddling with the area. 

Mr. Bennet arrived first, followed shortly by Jem and Tim. The first order of business was to have the boy, Ezra, sent for, and he soon arrived, proudly seated on his father’s saddlebow. He had not even been lifted down before his shrill voice piped up, “That’s the cart, sir. That’s the one, and with the rags that was in it.” 

William Archer stepped forward and offered the glove to Mr. Bennet. “I found this right there, sir, where the stone is marking the place. It’s been lying there a while, though it’s not been rained on. I thought it might be the mate to the other glove that was found.” 

“It is, indeed, Mr. Archer. Thank you.” Mr. Bennet placed the glove carefully in his inside pocket and dismounted. He leaned down to speak to the excited Ezra. “Good boy, Ezra. Now, do you think you can walk over there with me without disturbing any of the dust or dirt?”

“Yes, sir!” The boy reached out his hand, and Mr. Bennet somewhat awkwardly took it. The pair walked over to the cart where Jem and Tim awaited them. “These are the same rags, sir. All brown, like. You should look at what’s underneath of ‘em, because that’s where she was.”

The Hills had already begun examining the cloth. “This is a horse blanket, sir.” began Jem. “And it’s covered with gray hairs, so it might have belonged to the horse that Ezra saw.” He removed the blanket and spread it carefully on the grass by the hedge. 

Mr. Bennet uttered a strangled oath at what was revealed. A lady’s bonnet, straw, embellished with sea-green ribbons, lay crushed on the bed of the cart. He looked more closely and saw strands of silky black hair entangled in the rough wooden boards. Wordlessly he pulled a few of these, wound them carefully into a tiny skein around his fingers, and placed them in his pocket with the glove. He held the bonnet in his hand. It was a few moments before he could speak, but finally he said, “Mr. Archer? Do you have a shed or outbuilding where this cart could be kept undisturbed?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the farmer in a subdued voice. “I have a shed where it can be kept under lock and key. Tell me when you are ready for us to move it, and you shall have the key to keep, and welcome.” 

The Hills, having folded the blanket and laid it carefully back in the cart, took a careful look at their surroundings. The lane ascended a knoll, curved at the top of it, and joined the road to London a few yards further on. The intersection was nearby, but it was screened from the view of anyone who had not ascended the knoll. The farmer’s land, separated from the lane by the hedgerow, also ran uphill. The flat, low-lying area was under cultivation and ready for harvest. The hillside was a waste area of grasses and wildflowers. The land was screened from the London road by a strip of open woodland about twenty yards wide at the top of the knoll. 

Tim was first to scramble up, and he gave a shout when he reached the top. “Here! Here’s where they were!”

The open area under the trees was covered with forest litter and old leaves, damp from past rain, and semi-secluded both from the London road and the lane and farmland. It was clear that horses had spent some time there both from the number of hoofprints and the quantity of dung that littered the area. There were human footprints as well. Although most of these were blurred and muddled, it was possible, with care, to make out the presence of a third pair of men’s boots. “These are much finer than the other pairs of boots,” said Jem. “No hobnails.” This led to a short debate about whether they belonged to Elizabeth, but they were much too large. She had either been carried or she was too small and light to have disturbed the leaves and mud.

Mr. Bennet could clearly make out the narrow ruts where the carriage or other conveyance had rested, and closer scrutiny yielded shallower ruts curving out of the woods only to be lost in the grassy verge of the London road. They were headed south. “See what else you can uncover,” he ordered the Hills before scrambling back down the hill, through the hedgerow, and back to his waiting horse. He turned to the small knot of farmers waiting there and said, “Someone needs to ride to the first toll-booth and inquire if two or three men, and possibly a woman, were seen driving south in a carriage drawn by two horses, at least one of which was a gray.” 

Ezra’s father, a man named Croft, stepped forward. “M’wife has come for the boy, sir,” he said. “And I’ve got a good horse. I’ll go.” He was away as soon as Mr. Bennet nodded. 

Meanwhile, the Hills supervised the storage of the farm cart in Mr. Archer’s shed as Mr. Bennet turned towards home. He would need to answer Mr. Darcy’s letter as quickly as possible.

* * *

Mr. Bennet, whose headquarters were in his library, finished and sent a hasty note to Darcy before ringing for a cold luncheon. Mrs. Hill brought it to him, and he detained her for a few moments, informing her of the progress they had made that morning. “I feel I should tell you, Mrs. Hill, that your sons do you great credit,” he began. “I have found them not lacking in intelligence, they are resourceful, and their powers of reasoning are above the common way. When Lizzie is found, as I believe she will be, we must all have a conversation about their futures.” 

Hill smiled and curtsied. “Thank you, sir. Their father and I have tried to bring them up to be good men. We are happy to know that they are able to assist you in this terrible business.”

True to his word, Mr. Bennet visited his wife after dinner. He found her abed, propped up on pillows, staring out at the rapidly gathering darkness. “Draw those curtains if you please, Jane,” he said as he sat in the bedside chair. “And why don’t you go down and have tea with your sisters? I’ll stay here with your mother.”

As Jane slipped from the room, he entwined his fingers with his wife’s in the same way he had done when they were courting, and brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Now, Fanny,” he said quietly. “I’ve been neglecting you terribly, and I want to apologize for that.” Her eyes searched his face anxiously as he continued. “We have every reason in the world to believe that Lizzie is still alive and that she will be found. Mr. Darcy and your brother Edward are searching in London, and Mr. Darcy has good men, well-trained men, at his command.” He noticed with a pang that tears were rolling silently down her cheeks, and he wiped them tenderly away with his handkerchief. “Your job, Fanny, is to rest, eat, and recover. Elizabeth will want her mother when we get her home. You must be ready. Now, I’ll just sit here with you until you fall asleep, shall I?”

His wife squeezed his hand and favored him with a sad, watery smile before obediently closing her eyes. It was not long before her regular breathing told him that she was sleeping, but it was many minutes before her hand relaxed and let go of his.

When Mr. Bennet returned downstairs it was to find Ezra’s father awaiting him in the hall. He invited the man into his library and bade him be seated. 

“Sir, I rode south to the first toll-gate. The gatekeeper had no recollection of any such carriage, but he suggested that I wait for his wife, who often keeps an eye on the gate if he must be away. It took an hour or two, but when she finally returned, she was very helpful. She recalls a closed carriage with a man seated next to the driver on the box, and drawn by matched grays. Both men were wearing smock-frocks. The curtains were pulled over the windows, and she could not see who was within. Her only other recollection was that the men were in a hurry and were rude and unmannerly." 

"And when was this?"

"Day before yesterday, sir. A little past mid-day." He reached into a pocket and extracted a large, somewhat rusty, key. "This is from Mr. Archer, sir. It's the key to his shed where the cart is stored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too much explanation is needed for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 10

_She opened the letter and read it with some satisfaction. Country bumpkins and other riff-raff were swarming about Hertfordshire like ants, while the object of their search languished in a dark cellar in London. She reflected that Elizabeth Bennet had already been compromised in the strict sense of the word, and the occupation she was soon to take up would complete the task as efficiently and quickly as fashionable London could get the word out._

_She had recently been toying with the idea of offering the chit to her nephew as his mistress. It would be most gratifying and would doubtless save her own precious daughter from many of his distasteful importunities. She shuddered slightly at the thought of what her delicate girl would be forced to endure. Resolutely, she laid the thought aside. The final victory was almost achieved. Any frills and embellishments could be added later._

_Now that the Bennet chit was under control, there remained one last minor detail. The tradesman's daughter with the impressive fortune would have to be eliminated. Unfortunately, she was aware of Wickham's peccadilloes, so gaining control of her 20,000 pounds would be difficult, if not impossible. But she was throwing out lures to Darcy, therefore she must go. The obsidian eyes began an avid perusal of the London papers. So good of them to record the comings and goings of Fashionable Society._

Elizabeth berated herself for having lost track of the time. She had been attempting to keep track of breakfasts and suppers in the darkness of her prison, and she would have taken an oath that she had finished breakfast only a short time ago. Yet here came her captor with the lantern. 

“Time to get up, Miss Bennet,” said the older woman as she hung the lantern on its usual peg. “Avail yourself of the bucket if you need to.”

Elizabeth shook her head. The bucket had quickly become a noisome thing.

“Very well. Approach me, please. It will be necessary for you to be blindfolded for this next leg of your trip.”

Elizabeth walked carefully over to the woman, not entirely trusting her legs. She obediently turned around, and the woman tied the blindfold--just tightly enough--at the back of her head. The bonds confining her wrists were removed. Her captor guided her up a steep flight of stairs to a landing where the aromas of food were stronger and where she could plainly hear the voices and footsteps of men and women. She was next guided out of a door and found herself outside. Elizabeth drew in deep, intoxicating breaths of the fresh air. The sounds of traffic were much louder, but she could detect the warm scents of grass and flowers. The coolness seemed to indicate that they were shaded by a tree or trees, and she could detect the faint, distasteful odor of the necessary at some distance from where they stood. The woman walked her down a gravel path for perhaps a dozen yards before stopping again.

“Now we will ascend four steps. We will do this together, as they are broad. When we reach the top, you will stop and wait as I open a door.” When all of that had been accomplished, Elizabeth heard the door close behind her and found herself inside another building. The echoes of their footsteps told her that she was standing on a wooden floor. It was much quieter here; in fact there was no noise at all. She could detect scents of beeswax, floor polish, lavender, and cut flowers; in fact, all of the scents associated with a well-managed home. She resolutely suppressed a pang of homesickness and awaited her captor. As she did so, she breathed in again, inhaling the odor of fresh paint.

“You may reach behind you and remove your blindfold,” the woman said. Elizabeth complied, feeling a nervous flutter. She found herself standing in a wide hallway looking forward at what appeared to be a front door. “That door, and the door to the rear, remain locked and guarded at all times. You are not to approach them unaccompanied. Aside from that, you may move freely about this, the ground floor, and the rooms of the first floor. Do not enter a closed door without knocking and identifying yourself. Your room, and those of the other young ladies who share this house, are on the two upper floors. Now I will take you to your room.”

They ascended two pairs of stairs. “It’s like being in a school,” thought Elizabeth. Of course her reason told her that this could not be true. She knew perfectly well what sort of establishment this was. For now, she thought she was safe. She would learn what she could, and hopefully that would be sufficient to enable her to effect an escape. She had no idea how long her safety would last, but it would surely extend to a bath and some clean clothes.

When they arrived upstairs, her captor approached and opened one of the doors, stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter. The room was dark, much as the rest of the house was dark, because the window was obscured by heavy velvet curtains. Candles burned on the mantelpiece in an effort to ward off the gloom. It would have been impossible to see without them. A small fire burned in the grate. 

A young blonde girl in a simple but attractive gown, apron, and cap was supervising two footmen who were filling a copper bathtub set down in front of the fire. The water steamed invitingly and smelled divine to Elizabeth. She barely looked at the young maid, so anxious was she to get into the bath. 

“Mama,” said the girl. “You look tired. Do sit down for a few minutes and rest yourself. You may keep watch--eh, keep Miss Bennet company while I go and fetch clean towels.” She dismissed the footmen and whisked out the door and down the hallway. 

The woman Elizabeth mentally referred to as her captor pulled the door almost closed and seated herself in the chair. There did not appear to be a screen to place around the bathtub nor any sort of shift for Elizabeth to put on after removing her clothing. “Do go ahead and remove your clothes, Miss Bennet.” The woman did sound tired. “There is no false modesty here. Just leave them in a pile over there. They will be discarded and burned.”

So great was Elizabeth’s desire for a bath that she complied without demur, turning her back to the woman and seating herself gratefully in the tub of warm water. A cake of deliciously scented soap, quite different from what they used at Longbourn, was already in the bath, and she began to lather herself all over. The girl reappeared and handed her a flannel cloth for washing, and Elizabeth began to scrub every inch of herself that she could reach. 

When the time came to wash her hair, the girl was ready with warm, herb-scented water to rinse it, and when Elizabeth stood, she was first handed a warm towel, then assisted into a dressing-gown. She had never seen a dressing-gown quite like it. Silken and diaphanous, it did not cover very much and was certainly not intended to keep her warm. Not wishing to dislodge her captor from the room’s only chair, she pulled the bench from the dressing-table over to the fire. “Is there a comb?” she managed. One was instantly placed in her hand together with a dry towel, and she sat for many minutes, saying nothing, engaged in the familiar, comfortable task of drying her hair by the fire. Her heart turned over as she remembered cozy times spent with Jane or her other sisters, seated by the fire, combing and drying their hair together. 

Resolutely shaking off her despair, Elizabeth examined her surroundings. The room was small but well furnished and clean. It boasted a closet, a fireplace, a bureau, a dressing-table, a single bed and candlestand, and the modest but comfortable chair occupied by her captor. There were looking-glasses wherever she turned. 

"You are free to treat this room as your own while you are here," said the woman. "However, you must never, under any circumstances, approach the window or attempt to open the curtains. The window has been nailed shut, and there is a heavy blanket nailed to the frame behind these draperies. Stay away if you know what is good for you."

Elizabeth nodded and continued to dry her hair. In a few minutes, the young maid left, only to return moments later with a tray, which she set on the dressing-table. The aromas were so savory that Elizabeth could hear her stomach growl.

"I have brought you a proper breakfast, Miss Bennet," said the girl. "Best come and eat it before it grows cold." Elizabeth glanced at the small ormolu clock on the mantelpiece and saw that it was just ten o'clock. She heard feminine voices and footsteps in the hallway, descending the stairs. Presumably these were other inmates of the house going down for breakfast. She wasted no time in seating herself before the tray which contained eggs, a slice of ham, a plate of toast with butter and jam, a bowl of thick porridge with cream, fresh fruit, and, best of all, steaming hot coffee. She found all of it delicious and managed to put away a breakfast that would have done credit to any young man of her acquaintance. She could detect no telltale bitterness in any of the food and thought that if she were being drugged, it was some sort tasteless poison. She repressed a sigh of contentment as she folded her napkin and stood, turning around.

The older woman, her captor, had left the room. The young girl was still present, hovering nearby. "What should I call you?" asked Elizabeth.

The girl sketched a curtsy and replied, "My name is Ruth, Miss Bennet. I am your maid." Elizabeth looked at her thinking she looked familiar, but she recalled the admonition of the older woman and said nothing. "The older lady who brought you here is my mother. She is Mrs Oliver." 

"Thank you," replied Elizabeth, who could think of nothing else to say. 

"You may rest for an hour or so if you wish," Ruth went on. "At noon you will be fitted with a selection of gowns. That will take much of the afternoon. Dinner is at six, and you may choose to dine here in your room or to go downstairs and meet the other young ladies. You will not have any other duties tonight. Tomorrow morning you will meet with Madame Charpentier at eleven. She is the directress." Ruth went to the bed and turned it down, plumping the pillows invitingly. 

Elizabeth could not resist. She was soon abed, though sleep did not come easily. It did not take her long to dispose of the problem of Ruth's identity. She had last seen the girl working as the parlormaid at Hunsford Parsonage. She allowed her mind to work on this for a short time, found herself unable to make any progress, and resolutely closed her eyes. The image of Fitzwilliam Darcy appeared in her mind's eye. She reached out to him, found herself comforted, and fell asleep.

* * *

All too soon, Elizabeth was awakened by the maid. "I thought you might like some more coffee, Miss Bennet," said the girl, handing her a steaming cup. Elizabeth sat up and drank it gratefully. Underclothes--a silk chemise and stockings--had been laid out for her, but there was no dress and no shoes. She correctly guessed that she was expected to put these on, and Ruth helped her to slip back into the dressing-gown before pointing to the dressing table. "I will dress your hair first, Miss Bennet." As she worked to brush out and dress Elizabeth's hair, Ruth said, "Your hair is quite lovely--it is a very fashionable shade. But it is too long to be really fashionable. Madame Charpentier may wish to have you confer with the hairdresser. It will be her decision." Elizabeth's heart sank at this, for she knew that Darcy loved her hair. Still, she said nothing, and soon the hair was brushed into a stylish knot at the top of her head with a few ringlets falling to either side of her face.

Next, Ruth opened the center drawer of the table and pointed out cosmetics--boxes of powder, pots of rouge, phials of scent, and an array of puffs, brushes, and rabbits-feet to apply it all. Elizabeth inspected it all and colored. "I--I have never used cosmetics," she said. "I have no idea at all of how to apply them."

Ruth stood back and eyed her critically. "You don't need, much, that is certain," she said. She went to work with the rouge, and Elizabeth soon had a faint blush overspreading her cheeks, and her lips were several shades darker. Ruth considered and rejected the powder. She indicated the perfumes and allowed Elizabeth to select one that appealed to her. Elizabeth found a light, floral scent that included the familiar odor of lavender. This was soon dabbed all over, including places that caused Elizabeth great mortification. She bit her tongue and said nothing, and it was soon over.

Elizabeth seated herself in the chair by the fireplace, thinking that she would be glad even for a piece of needlework to pass the time, when the door opened and a small, stylishly dressed woman entered. She was followed by a more plainly dressed woman, obviously her assistant, who carried a small leather case. "Miss Bennet," she said. "I am the modiste." Elizabeth stood and murmured "How do you do" but did not offer her hand. The woman turned to Ruth. "Another branch of candles, please. There is not enough light here to work properly." 

Ruth returned with the candles, and the measuring was carried out very quickly. The modiste swept the cosmetics away, sat at the dressing table, and began writing in a notebook with a lead-pencil. Her list looked fairly comprehensive to Elizabeth, who had re-seated herself in the chair by the fire. At length, the woman tore out several pages, handed them to the assistant, and said, "Half an hour." The assistant nodded and left, escorted by Ruth.

"You are very fortunate, Miss Bennet," said the modiste. Her speech was slightly accented, but Elizabeth could not place it. "You have a light, graceful figure, a generous bosom, slender limbs, and a good complexion. The style of your hair is quite naive, but I do not recommend cutting it." She paused and frowned before going on. "All of these attributes will be very pleasing to the gentlemen. When properly gowned, you will do quite well."

Elizabeth blanked her expression. There existed only one gentleman on earth she cared about pleasing, and she suspected that it would be unwise to allow that fact to become known here. The modiste occupied herself with her writing, allowing Elizabeth time for thought. She had decided that her course of action should be to remain as aloof as possible without gaining a reputation for being impolite. She wanted to learn everything she could, but she suspected that open, friendly manners in such a place might be mistaken for weakness. Therefore she sounded somewhat abrupt when she addressed her next question to Ruth.

"Are there any books here, Ruth? Novels, perhaps? Poetry?"

"No, Miss. We don't get too much call for books here."

"What about sewing or needlework? If it is not possible to procure fine needlework, I would be pleased to work on mending for the household. I cannot pass my days in idleness." Elizabeth envisioned a house full of young girls attending to nothing but gossip and their toilettes. She made a mental note to share that vision with Kitty, should she ever see Kitty again. 

The modiste attended to this conversation with some amusement. "I doubt such a request has ever been made in this house, Miss Bennet. However, it does you credit. I will arrange to send you patterns and the necessary materials and supplies so that you can undertake some needlework. I, too, detest idleness." 

"I thank you," replied Elizabeth. Ruth, somewhat baffled, simply dropped a curtsy. A few minutes later, a bell rang, and Ruth left. She returned shortly thereafter with the assistant and two footmen carrying an extraordinary number of boxes and bandboxes. These were laid on the bed and stacked on the floor, and the assistant went to work checking the contents and sorting through them. 

"Now we begin," said the modiste. "Remove your dressing gown, please, Miss Bennet." When Elizabeth complied, she continued. "We begin with seven daytime ensembles, five simple gowns and two ensembles suitable for outings with gentlemen." 

The simple dresses were very similar to the gowns Elizabeth favored at home, made in muslin in a long-sleeved, square-necked style. She would never have chosen the colors. Rather than the modest, maidenly whites and pale shades she favored, these were made up in vivid tones including cerulean, puce, apricot, deep rose, and pomona green. She noted with relief the simple pelisse and round bonnet. She despaired of the low-cut bodices which left her feeling as though she were falling out of the gowns. The ensembles for outings were equally daring and included stylish bonnets, pelisses, and muffs. The modiste made a few markings with pins on the two more elegant gowns. The simple gowns fit well. Each gown came with slippers or half-boots that fit according to the measurements that had been taken. 

Next she was laced into a corset, and the assistant brought out three evening gowns. In the moment she tried on the first ensemble--rustling silk the color of rubies with a net overskirt spangled with paillettes--Elizabeth began to lose hope. She knew without looking in the mirror that no decent woman, single or married, would be seen wearing the gown, which left her shoulders virtually bare while plunging to a deep decolletage. A futile and instinctive effort to adjust the bodice over her bosom was thwarted by the modiste, and she allowed the assistant to pull the gloves on for her. She could not and would not look in the mirror. 

"A pity," said the modiste. "You should be wearing rubies with this. Ah, I should not worry. Some gentleman will have you dripping in rubies the second time you wear it." Elizabeth blanked her countenance and kept her expression neutral as the second two dresses were fitted--one in royal blue, the other in a startling emerald green. 

Meanwhile, Ruth had been busily emptying other bandboxes, storing away chemises, stockings, handkerchiefs, and what appeared to Elizabeth to be plain linen nightdresses. "You have three silk peignoirs for entertaining," said the modiste. "But I believe every woman is entitled to comfortable nightdresses for the times she spends alone." Elizabeth nodded her thanks, while Ruth put away gloves, fans, reticules, and hair ornaments. 

"That will be all for now, Miss Bennet," said the modiste. "The gowns requiring alterations will be delivered shortly after noon tomorrow. And I shall not forget your sewing materials."

"I thank you for that," replied Elizabeth. 

"Goodbye for now," said the modiste and left with her assistant. 

"Ruth, I make it out to be almost three," said Elizabeth. "Please leave me until it is time to dress for dinner. I will probably decide to eat in my room, but I will make my decision at that time. And please assist me in removing this corset. I should like to dress in one of the simple nightgowns for now."

"Yes, Miss Bennet." Ruth unlaced the corset for her, gathered up the discarded chemise and stockings, and handed Elizabeth a long-sleeved nightgown of soft lawn. She then left the room.

Elizabeth looked through the bureau until she found the handkerchiefs. She took one, laid down on the bed, covered her face with it, and wept silently and bitterly until sleep came. 

When she awoke, she found a brown-paper parcel on the chair by the fire. It contained a small workbag with thimble, scissors, needles, chalk, and a large assortment of skeins of silk. It also included a length of fine, even linen and several ladies' magazines. The card read, "Mlle Marie-Yvette Deschamps, Modiste" and bore the direction and a hand-written inscription, "With my compliments."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that ladies of the Regency appeared in some rather revealing costumes at times. But my thought is that Elizabeth and her sisters were more gently reared. The colors are all ones I found that seem authentic to the period.
> 
> I will not be posting a chapter tomorrow (20 January, 2017), as I hope to spend the day in service to my real-life community. If possible, I will post a second chapter very late this evening.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 11

Darcy had been working tirelessly with his solicitor, with Sergeant Parker, and with Mr. Gardiner on the question of Mrs. Younge's activities, and at about the same time Elizabeth had finished with the modiste, Parker and Mr. Gardiner arrived in the house on Brook Street to compare notes and to make further plans.

They began with an update from Parker. "First and foremost," he began. "We have enjoyed success with the conveyance to London, thanks largely to those two lads who work for Mr. Bennet as well as a couple of local farmers. The conveyance was an ordinary chaise-and-pair, drawn by two matched grays. It was first seen at the first toll-gate south of Meryton by the wife of the gate-keeper shortly after mid-day on the day of Miss Bennet's abduction. It was driven by two men in smock-frocks, one in farmer's gaiters and heavy boots, one in trousers and Hessian boots or gentleman's boots. The woman reports that they were abrupt and rude. She was unable to make out the passengers because the curtains were drawn."

He consulted his notes before continuing. "I had men out as soon as we had gotten word, and the sightings continued, virtually unchanged, at every toll-gate. We have three persons who will actually assert that the passenger they saw on the box was tall and slender. Each and every person interviewed noted the incongruity between the shirt and the boots." Parker settled back in his chair and looked at Darcy.

"Wickham," said Darcy.

"Wickham," replied Parker. "At least there's a good possibility it was Wickham." He consulted his notes again. "Wickham is still residing in the rooms where he took the younger Miss Bennet. We have observed that he has been spending money a little more freely. He is sporting at least one new suit of clothing including new shirts and new boots. He has employed a woman to clean and, presumably, to do his laundry. Aside from that, he is not moving around. He has his meals sent in and has changed to claret, a better class of strong drink than his former gin." 

"So, no visits to taverns or gaming hells, no meetings, no chance encounters. No women visiting?" 

"At the moment, sir, he is keeping strictly to himself. When that changes, we will know immediately."

"And what of Mrs Younge?" asked Darcy.

"I will have more to say about her later, sir. She has not been seen in the rooming-house for several weeks now. The servants will not talk, but neighbors say she left at around the time of Miss Lydia's abduction. No one has seen her." 

"Yet my solicitors can find no record of any lawful business--acquisitions of property or other transactions." 

"I conducted my investigations in a different fashion," added Mr. Gardiner. "I have been listening for talk or gossip regarding places of a low moral character. Gambling hells, for example. Or houses of ill fame. My investigations have borne some interesting fruit."

Darcy leaned forward in his chair, chin on hand, regarding Mr. Gardiner intently.

"About three months ago, two adjoining houses were purchased just steps from here on Audley Street. They were extensively remodeled. It is possible to find merchants and tradesmen who provided furnishings both new and second-hand. Painters, glaziers, carpenters--all were employed on the project. Since then, the houses have been supplied with meats, wines, groceries--all things necessary to the maintenance of a very large household--or of a private club. Purchases of wine  
and spirits have been substantial, and the meats and groceries have all been of the best quality."

"Sir," interrputed Parker. "Are either of you gentlemen aware of the nature of those houses?" 

Both men shook their heads. "The presumption in the City is that they constitute a house of ill fame," said Mr. Gardiner. 

"The larger, plainer house serves as a residence for young women who are employed by the proprietor. The smaller, more beautifully decorated of the two is, at first glance, a discreet gaming-club. Admission is by invitation only, and it is frequented by the usual assortment of gentlemen and hangers-on who fancy themselves proficient at deep play. And deep play is what they get." He paused and lit his pipe without requesting permission. "The first two floors are dedicated to gaming. The upper floors--it is said that any vice that can be devised by the depraved mind of man is available. For a price, of course." He squared his shoulders. "I have not succeeded in infiltrating either house as yet. I have both places under constant watch. I have also not been successful in catching glimpses of Madame Charpentier or any of the girls. We believe they traverse adjoining back gardens to go from one house to the other without being seen from the street." 

Darcy's eyes burned. "I, too, have encountered the name of Madame Charpentier. She has purchased several properties in various districts around London, though her name did not arise in conjunction with Audley Street." He turned to his desk, scribbled a note, and rang for the footman. "Deliver this, wait for an answer, and bring it directly back to me," he said. And turning back to the other two men, "My solicitors will know."

Parker stood. "If you will pardon me, sir, I should like to take a little walk. I shall be back in about a half-hour's time." 

When Parker had left, Mr. Gardiner and Darcy's conversation naturally turned to Longbourn. "I have had a letter from my brother this morning," said Mr. Gardiner. "The news is not good. My sister has had a slight stroke. Although there is no paralysis, she has for the most part lost her ability to speak. They are doing everything in their power to keep her spirits up, and her physician believes she may yet recover."

"I am grieved to hear it," replied Darcy. "Taken individually, either of these abductions would be a terrible burden for any mother. Taken together, they must be overpowering indeed. I can scarcely imagine what she is going through."

"Or what you are going through, my friend."

Darcy regarded him with tortured eyes. "Where there is life, there is hope. My connection with Elizabeth is such that I honestly believe she is still alive. Were it otherwise, I believe that I would somehow know of the loss." 

Wordlessly, Mr. Gardiner poured two glasses of wine from the decanter and handed one to Darcy. When he had seated himself, he replied quietly. "I feel exactly the same connection to my own wife." 

Darcy sipped his wine and observed, "By now Bingley should have arrived at Netherfield. He will wait upon Mr. Bennet at the earliest opportunity to offer his services with these efforts. Now that the bulk of the search has shifted to London, Mr. Bennet will no doubt wish to come here. However I feel he could be of most help in the neighborhood of Longbourn. There are several investigations yet to close. On the other hand, she is his child." 

"Let me see what I can do," replied Mr. Gardiner.

He was prevented from saying any more by the arrival of the butler. "Mr. Winters, sir." 

Darcy stood to greet the soberly dressed elderly man. "I did not expect you to come in person, sir." He turned and introduced Mr. Winters to Mr. Gardiner as his family's solicitor."

"Mr. Darcy," began Winters. "I wonder if I might have a word with you privately." 

"Is it regarding our present investigation? If so, Mr. Gardiner is Miss Bennet's maternal uncle and has my complete confidence in this matter."

"Certainly." Winters sat and accepted a glass of wine from Darcy.

"The information you requested concerning the ownership of the recently sold properties in Audley Street was readily available," Winters began again. "However, the information is profoundly disturbing, and you should be prepared for a shock, my dear boy. The properties were acquired by, and are presently owned by, your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh." Dismay and concern mingled on Winters' face as he leaned forward. He had been looking after the affairs of the Darcys for many years.

The blood left Darcy's face, and he sat immobile. Only his eyes showed that there was any life left in him.

Wordlessly, Mr. Gardiner left the room. Finding the butler in the hall, he asked that brandy be brought immediately. As he was turning to go back in, Parker entered from the street. Mr. Gardiner held up a warning hand and walked quietly toward him, motioning him into a sitting room at the front of the house. 

"Mr. Darcy is with his solicitor," said Mr. Gardiner quietly. "The news regarding the ownership of the Audley Street houses is shocking indeed. The properties were purchased by and are owned by Mr. Darcy's aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

"I am not entirely surprised," murmured Sergeant Parker. "However, it must have come as a shock to Mr. Darcy. Shall we go back in?" 

The butler had just brought in the brandy, and Mr. Gardiner poured a stiff tot and handed it to Darcy, who accepted it gratefully. Mr. Winters and Sergeant Parker seemed to know each other, and Parker said, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Winters. Is there any other information we need to be acquainted with?"

"No," replied Winters. "That was all we could develop at such short notice. We will, of course, continue our discreet inquiries. I will wait on Mr. Darcy in person rather than sending one of the younger partners." Winters stood and laid a hand as frail as parchment on Darcy's shoulder--a liberty he could take because he had dandled the young Fitzwilliam Darcy on his knee many times--and said, "I know this has been an unimaginable shock, especially coming on the heels of the abduction. But do not give up hope. Continue to fight the good fight. It is my belief that the victory will be yours." Darcy briefly laid his young hand on the old man's, and Mr. Winters bowed silently to the other two men, turned and left the room.

"He and my father were schoolboys together," said Darcy thoughtfully. Then he squared his shoulders, set down his glass, and sat up straight. "My aunt has a brilliant fortune, wisely invested. It unites her husband's considerable holdings with her own. I have long suspected her of designs on my fortune, or simply of a desire to unite the two families more closely. But I never regarded her as openly malevolent. My suspicions in that direction have tended more towards George Wickham, whose desire for revenge is well known to me." He paused for a moment. "It certainly bears out the observations of Miss Mary Bennet. Collins is my aunt's dupe."

Parker raised his eyebrows, and at Darcy's nod, proceeded with the careful ritual of lighting his pipe. Mr. Gardiner poured wine for himself and Parker, made certain Darcy's glass was topped-off, and settled back in his chair. Only when the pipe was lit and drawing did the sergeant continue.

"Sir, how long has your aunt been promoting the purported engagement between yourself and her daughter Anne?"

"As you know, my mother died when I was just ten years old. My father died five years ago. Nothing was said during either of their lifetimes. I never heard of the idea until shortly after my father's death when I was twenty-three. My aunt has made it up out of whole cloth, conjured it out of thin air. When she first advanced it, it astonished everyone including my uncles on both sides of the family and my cousins." 

"When you came down from Cambridge, you were introduced to London society?" 

"Yes. My father was in the beginning stages of his final illness and remained at Pemberley. I was taken under the wing of my uncle, the Earl." 

"I take it you became acquainted with several young ladies of good family?"

"Of excellent family, Sergeant Parker. Considering the size of my fortune, this can come as no surprise."

"And thinking back to that first London season, do you recall what became of any of those young ladies?" 

Darcy thought carefully for a moment. "Three or four of them made good matches and are presumably happily married. I've remained good friends with one of those ladies and her husband, who is an old schoolfellow. We dine together occasionally when I am in town. One died tragically in a horseback riding accident at her father's estate in Yorkshire. One developed a debilitating illness. Of the rest, I have no idea." 

"What about more recently, sir?"

"The only young lady to show a sincere interest recently, aside from Miss Bennet, is Miss Caroline Bingley, sister of my friend Charles Bingley."

"Is Miss Bingley in town?"

"No. She is finishing up a summer holiday with family at Bath. Her married sister, Mrs. Hurst, is with her. Believe me when I say that I trust you implicitly, Sergeant Parker. But towards what is all of this tending?"

Parker refilled his pipe. Mr. Gardiner, noticing that glasses were empty, quietly replenished them and took his seat.

"Sir, I have observed you and Lady Catherine since first entering your employ three years ago. She has but one idea in mind. That is the enhancement of her daughter's fortune by the acquisition and addition of of yours, including Pemberley. The fact that you are a near relation is but a fortunate happenstance, a piece of good luck that she believes will save her a great deal of work. Miss Anne de Bourgh is to be the wealthiest, most dazzling young woman in all of England." 

Parker stood and took a turn about the room as he continued talking. "This is not a frivolous or baseless assertion, Mr. Darcy. She is a cold-hearted and single-minded woman, impatient with anyone who gets in her way for any reason. It is my belief she has absolutely no sense of the humanity of others. If you look around Covent Garden or walk down Drury Lane and converse with the unfortunate young women there, you will find a handful of girls who have somehow incurred her wrath and who are now being punished. They are for the most part country girls, girls who took posts at Rosings as maids and were too pretty or too bright. However, at least one is a gentleman's daughter." 

"I cannot believe what you are saying," said Darcy. "Yet it is all too plausible. Aside from seduction, or blatant abduction, how does one ruin a gentleman's daughter? It cannot be easy." 

"You ruin her father. Or kill him off. It becomes easier when you have a Wickham at your disposal. Once the male protector is dealt with, you have a vulnerable young lady who must make her way in the world. She will become a governess or teacher, most likely. She may go to work as a seamstress or seek some other genteel occupation such as that of companion to another lady. At that point, you are ready to strike. Some article is stolen and placed in her possession. Some accident befalls one of the children in her charge. An employer's husband or adolescent son becomes too enamored. The young lady is turned away without a recommendation, and she is at that point easy prey."

"Unspeakable," returned Darcy. "Yet so very plausible."

"It is my belief that Wickham first attracted Lady Catherine's notice when you compensated him for the living he refused. Of course she was aware of him before that time because of his position in the family. But it was at that juncture she realized he might be of use to her. I have not fathomed the relationship between Wickham and Mrs. Younge, but that must have appeared useful to Lady Catherine when it became known to her. As with other girls, those singled out by Lady Catherine will first go via Wickham to Mrs. Younge. Eventually they will find themselves on the streets. Such would have been the fate of Miss Lydia Bennet."

"Why have you not spoken of this before?" 

"Many of my assertions were speculation. Some were confirmed after Miss Lydia Bennet's unfortunate misadventure. Most have been confirmed by the fact that Lady Catherine is the owner of that--that den of iniquity. I had wished to gather more facts before coming to you. However, you need as much information as possible at your disposal." 

"Thank you, Parker." Darcy stood abruptly and paced about the room, eventually coming to lean on the mantle-piece. "It would appear that according to my aunt's wishes, any young woman who attracts my notice must be eliminated as a threat whether she is an eligible young lady or a comely housemaid. It is outrageous." He threw himself back into his chair. "Therefore one of our first orders of business must be to protect Miss Caroline Bingley." Darcy wrote out a direction and some information and handed it to Parker. "Miss Bingley is aware of some of Wickham's activities, so she will not be as vulnerable to him as was Miss Lydia Bennet. Send the men by the fastest available conveyance. Hire a post-chaise and four or whatever is needed." 

"I will dispatch men at once. If they leave this evening they can be there by mid-day tomorrow." 

"The second problem will be more difficult. Though it is tempting to consider storming the houses in an attempt to extract Miss Bennet, that is manifestly unwise. I must find a friend who can gain entrance by invitation, and I must do it discreetly without asking too many people. Can you record who is entering and leaving?"

"I will attend to that myself." Parker took the extraordinary step of lighting his pipe for a third time. "I fear I am about to say things that you will find disturbing, sir. However, they are intended to be reassuring. A young woman who finds herself in one of these establishments is not immediately ready to--to make an appearance. She must be suitably gowned and have her hair done, which requires visits from dressmakers and so on. She must be induced to fear the proprietors who wish to compel her obedience. And--" Parker stopped and regarded Darcy with troubled eyes, unable for the moment to continue."

"Go on, Parker. It's for my own good," said Darcy steadily. 

"They will doubtless wish to consider several patrons to decide which will be the most generous, therefore the most lucrative for themselves. I believe we have at least one more day, possibly two, before her danger becomes imminent. The dressmaker was observed visiting today. We shall watch for her tomorrow. And nothing and no one will enter those houses without our observing it, sir. I have located a vacant property several doors down and am insinuating men into an area where they can view the back garden." 

Parker turned to Mr. Gardiner. "Sir, with the possible threat to Miss Bingley, it is of utmost importance for us to obtain descriptions of the two men who abducted Miss Bennet. One avenue of approach is to determine where the cart came from, if indeed it was stolen from the neighborhood. Another is to approach the boy Ezra in a manner that will engage his trust. He is young and innocent, and he may with some encouragement recall particulars of the men's appearances."

"I will be writing to my brother this evening. I will include all that you have requested." 

The three men stood and shook hands. Darcy summoned a carriage for Mr. Gardiner, as the dinner hour was approaching and he wished to be at home with his family. But Parker declined. "I will be in the neighborhood for quite some time, sir," he said as they took their leave. 

Darcy consumed a solitary dinner before returning to work. He disposed of several letters and bills, and then sat staring at the fire, sunk deep in thought. His aunt had always been an annoying woman, meddlesome and officious in the extreme. But it appeared to him now that she was lacking something deep within. Perhaps it was what people called the "soul." Parker's assertions resonated in his mind. She saw other human beings, whether great or humble, as not being possessed of humanity, as pieces on a great game board that only she could see. The world needed to be protected from her. He would have to consider all of this, but his first task was to recover Elizabeth. 

The sound of a log falling in the grate called him to himself. He took up a candlestick and went to his rooms, fully expecting that sleep would be elusive. Eventually, he called to his mind's eye those images of Elizabeth at Pemberley. Reaching out his arm as though to grasp her hand, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter will begin to provide a few answers to all the questions the story has posed so far. The enormity of Lady Catherine's crimes is beginning to unfold.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 12

Caroline Bingley, dressed in the first stare of fashion, grimaced slightly as she finished her glass of water. She looked around the Pump Room, then smiled and waved as she caught sight of her new friend, Julia Montford. The two young ladies hurried to greet each other and linked arms before beginning their leisurely stroll around the room. Julia's brother, Francis, appeared to be quite taken with Miss Bingley, and the young ladies were eager to discuss their gowns and toilettes for a ball to be held that evening in the Lower Assembly Rooms. 

Caroline congratulated herself. Mr. Montford was only one of several eligible gentlemen she could regard as conquests during her time at Bath. Since Mr. Darcy seemed to have put himself out of reach by offering for that upstart Eliza Bennet, Caroline had wisely decided that the time had come to shake off all sloth. She had been amply rewarded for her efforts. Mr. Montford was in his early thirties, tall and handsome, cultured enough to appreciate an accomplished lady. He was certainly well-off financially. They also seemed to get along famously, sharing the same wry sense of humor and somewhat jaundiced view of society. She felt that, properly nurtured, a mutual attachment might grow.

After one last turn about the room, Julia and Caroline parted to rest and begin their preparations for the ball. They agreed to a meeting-place, and Julia disappeared into the crowd. Caroline located the footman who had attended her and began the agreeable walk back to her uncle and aunt's house in Laura Place.

Caroline made a point of walking across the Parade Gardens with their splendid views of the river and pleasant garden paths. She was envisioning herself at the ball in the new pomona-green ensemble when she was startled to hear a low grunt and a sickening thud, and to see her footman stretched out upon the path, wig askew. A quick glance revealed a wound to his temple with a slight, but ominous, trickle of blood. She gathered her forces and screamed "Help! Murder!" 

A man's hand was clamped over her mouth, a man's voice close to her ear said, "Don't make a sound, Miss, and you'll be all right." 

She immediately bit down on the rude hand as hard as she could, heard a muffled curse, and then knew no more. 

Miss Bingley became conscious again to find herself lying on the grass, head pillowed on the lap of a young lady. There were voices all around her, and her face was being bathed with lavender-water. Her head ached unspeakably, and her ankle throbbed. She heard the young lady say, "She's regaining consciousness, Richard. There appears to be some blood on the bodice of her gown."

"What has happened, ma'am?" exclaimed a cultivated gentleman's voice.

"My footman!" cried Caroline weakly. "Please see to him." 

The gentleman approached and knelt on the ground. "Madam, I am afraid there is bad news. Your footman--your footman has not survived the attack." The lady took Caroline's hand. "Help has been summoned, and others are searching for the attackers."

"Please allow me to make us known to you," said the lady. "I am Miss Maria Lacey, and this is my brother, Sir Richard Lacey. We are just arrived in Bath to stay with our cousins."

Caroline managed a wan smile. "And I am Miss Caroline Bingley. I am here with my sister Mrs. Hurst to visit our aunt and uncle." 

"This has been an unspeakable ordeal for you, Miss Bingley. I see you are still in possession of your reticule. Were they robbers?"

"I cannot think what else they can have wanted," replied Caroline. 

A few moments later, two constables, a surgeon, and several other men arrived. The men went immediately to the footman, and the surgeon began to examine the corpse. 

"The cause of death was a forceful blow to the right temple by a blunt object," began the surgeon. "In that region of the skull and brain, death would have been almost immediate. Help me turn him over, please." One of the constables stepped forward, and they laid the man out on his back. The surgeon untied the cravat, loosened the shirt, and looked quickly at the man's chest. "The death occurred no more than fifteen or twenty minutes ago. There has not yet been time for the blood to pool in the lower-lying areas of the body, and the skin is still quite warm." He began to compose the body into a decent attitude, straightening the man's legs, closing his eyes, and crossing his hands over his breast. "I will examine him in my chambers, but there will not be much more to tell than that. Does anyone know his name?" 

"Foster," replied Caroline weakly. "Second footman to my uncle Mr. Bingley of Laura Place. I do not know his Christian name." 

The surgeon approached and knelt by Caroline, introducing himself as Mr Fielding. "We must remove your bonnet, Madam," he began. Miss Lacey untied it gently and took it off for Caroline, handing it silently to the surgeon. It was woven of a light summer straw with very elegant trim, and the back had been entirely crushed. The surgeon began exploring the back of Caroline's head until he touched a place that caused her to cry out.

"You have received a blow to the back of your head, Madam, probably from the same object used to assault your footman. Fortunately it was somewhat deflected by your bonnet, although it was strong enough to crush the straw." He examined her eyes, asked her to follow various movements of his hands, and questioned her regarding the date, day of the week, and other details. After moving on to her ankle, he sat back. "The injury to your head is not serious, Madam, and there is every indication you will make a full recovery. However, complete bed rest will be necessary for several days at least. Such injuries can have unforeseen consequences. I will wait upon you at your uncle's home in Laura Place this afternoon to evaluate your condition further. Your ankle is sprained and will benefit from cold compresses. I will bandage it this afternoon. Now, as to the blood on the bodice of your gown."

"It is not mine," replied Caroline. "It belongs to one of the attackers."

The senior of the two constables approached her and knelt. "Miss Bingley," he began. "This has been a terrible ordeal for you."

"But not so terrible as it has been for poor Foster."

"Yes, ma'am. We will need to call in the magistrate, and there will most likely be a coroner's inquest. I expect the magistrate will wish to wait upon you in a day or two, when you have recovered sufficiently to speak to him." 

"He is most welcome."

"I will not detain you much longer. Can you tell us anything at all about the men who attacked you?" 

"They came from behind. Obviously one of them dealt the blow to Foster. The other put his hand over my mouth and told me no harm would come to me if I kept quiet. I did not see either of them very well. Their hats were pulled down over their eyes. All I can tell you is that I believe I did serious harm to the one who held his hand over my mouth. I bit him so that he was compelled to release me. And apparently I drew blood." Caroline laid back, feeling decidedly unwell. 

"Miss Bingley," Sir John broke in. "My sister and I would be honored to escort you home. Our carriage is just over there." Caroline nodded, and he picked her up effortlessly and carried her to the waiting carriage. His sister Maria followed close behind.

The small party was received with consternation and alarm by the residents of the house in Laura Place. Caroline was transported upstairs by a stout footman, followed anxiously by her aunt, her sister Louisa, and Miss Lacey. Sir Richard asked to speak to the elder Mr. Bingley privately and was ushered into his library, where he quickly acquainted Caroline's uncle with the known facts concerning the assault, the death of the footman, and the actions of the constables. 

"We are forever in your debt for restoring my niece to us, Sir Richard, and for the kindness of yourself and your sister towards her." Mr. Bingley was clearly experiencing both shock and perplexity. "And Foster was a good man who supported his widowed mother. I shall have to arrange to visit her and bring this dreadful news, as well as making arrangements for her care."

"My sister and I are at your service in this, Mr. Bingley. With your permission, I should like to wait upon you in a day or two to inquire after Miss Bingley." He extracted a card from his case and a lead-pencil from his pocket and wrote out a direction in the Royal Crescent. "Here is the direction of our cousins, who are also named Lacey. We anticipate staying with them for several weeks." 

Upstairs, as Miss Bingley was being undressed and put to bed, Miss Lacey acquainted Caroline Hurst and the elder Mrs. Bingley with the surgeon's name, the details of his examination, his recommendations for complete rest, and his intention of calling on the patient later in the afternoon.

"Mr. Fielding is well known to us," said Mrs. Bingley. "I will see that his instructions are carried out with respect to the bed rest and cold compresses, and we will await his visit this afternoon." 

Miss Lacey approached the bed. "Dear Miss Bingley, I am so very sorry this has happened to you. I will call on you in a day or two to see how you are progressing." 

Caroline managed a weak "Thank you," and Miss Lacey took her leave of the other two ladies and left to go downstairs and find her brother.

As the two prepared to enter their carriage, they were approached by one of the two constables who had attended the scene of the crime. "Begging your pardon sir, but we would like to know the direction of the house where you are staying while you are in Bath." 

Sir Richard extracted a card and pencil and again wrote down the direction on Royal Crescent. "I will be happy to be of service in any way I can," he said. "Although my sister and I did not witness the attack. Has any progress been made?"

"Yes, sir. It is possible we have apprehended the criminals. One of them has a severe wound on his hand. We will communicate with you shortly, sir, and thank you."

Two men, decently but plainly attired, arrived in Bath shortly after these incidents. After leaving their valises at a suitable inn, they began their casual reconnaissance--only to learn that they were too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when things are beginning to go well for Caroline Bingley. At least one of her rescuers is a handsome young man. We can hope she will be consoled by that.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 13

Darcy slammed his fist into the mantle-piece and spat out an oath--something he was not in the habit of doing. Sergeant Parker, who could swear the Devil out of hell, said nothing, while Mr. Gardiner looked on with sympathy. No ornaments were knocked to the floor, and Darcy soon came to himself and sat down.

"This is no fault of yours, Parker," he began. "They were one jump ahead of us."

"We can be thankful that Miss Bingley was not more seriously hurt and that they have apprehended the attackers," added Mr. Gardiner.

"I must wait on Hurst immediately to inform him of all this, and I must write to Bingley as well. But it is imperative that I find a way to get a reliable friend into that club." Parker had provided him with a comprehensive list of names from the previous evening, and Darcy had recognized many of them. Several caused him serious concern. However, since his choice of friends did not run to libertines and rakehells, there was not a single name on the list that would be of use to him in gaining entrance. Parker's watchmen had seen the young women moving from the residence to the club across the back garden, but while there were several brunettes, it was impossible to determine if Elizabeth was one of them. 

Mr. Gardiner consulted his watch. "I will write to Mr. Bingley on your behalf if that will free you to make haste to Mr. Hurst. What do you wish me to tell him?"

"That his sister has been attacked by brigands or footpads, that he should travel to Bath immediately, and that I will write to him upon his arrival. That should be sufficient, and I thank you."

The three men agreed to dine together that evening and parted company. Darcy went immediately to the home in Grosvenor Square and sent in his card. Mr. Hurst was ensconced in the book room with the papers, just as he had been on the previous visit. 

"Darcy," he said, shaking hands. "A bit early to offer you a glass of wine. Care for a cup of coffee?" He indicated a service with cups set up on a side table. "Help yourself. I can't get on without the stuff." 

"Thank you," returned Darcy. When both men were seated again, he began. "Hurst, I am afraid I bring you bad news." 

"Not Miss Bennet!" 

"No. Your wife's sister Caroline has been attacked in broad daylight as she walked through the Parade Gardens in Bath. The criminals murdered the footman who was accompanying her, and she was struck on the back of the head. She is not seriously injured and is expected to recover. I am writing to Charles Bingley in the expectation that he would want to travel immediately to Bath to be with his sister."

"And how did you learn of this?"

"We had reason to suspect she might be in some degree of danger, and I dispatched two reliable men to watch over her. Despite sending them by the fastest available means, the incident took place shortly before their arrival in Bath. They are still there and are still keeping watch. It is probable that the criminals have been apprehended. Your sister did not surrender without a fight, and she managed to inflict an injury on one of them." 

"Why did you suspect she was in danger?"

Darcy compressed his lips into a thin line before answering. "It appears there is a person who does not wish me to marry. Miss Lydia Bennet was abducted to discredit the Bennet family. When that was unavailing, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was herself abducted, and as yet we do not know her fate. At least one young lady known to me during my first London season six years ago may also have been abducted, and her whereabouts are unknown. Miss Caroline Bingley simply had the misfortune to be the only single young lady in a family with whom I am on terms of some intimacy."

"Who is doing it? I must say, Darcy, this hits a little too close to home for my taste," said Hurst.

"We know who it is. We need to accomplish several things before they can be brought to book. First and foremost, Elizabeth Bennet must be found and rescued before any harm comes to her. And second, we must tie her abductors to Miss Bingley's assailants in Bath, and they must be made to talk. It is evident that she was to suffer the same fate as Miss Bennet. We are fortunate that we have an eyewitness in Hertfordshire. Unfortunately, he is a young boy. However, the murder of the footman will be a compelling piece of evidence. I remain optimistic that this matter will be brought to a satisfactory conclusion."

"I shall write to Louisa's uncle today," replied Hurst. "But I can tell you right now he will not want me to travel there." He refilled his cup and turned to Darcy. "How may I be of service to you in all this? It's the most damnable thing I've ever heard of."

Darcy was about to let the subject drop with his thanks when something caused him to stop. "I know you enjoy a good game of whist or piquet, Hurst. Do you ever frequent gaming establishments here in London?"

"Not often, Darcy. A man can lose his fortune in less than an hour in one of those places. But I do enjoy an evening of what you might term deep play from time to time. The secret is to know one's limit and to abide by it." 

"Do you know of a new private club--"

"Madame Charpentier's in Audley Street? Right around the corner from your house, Darcy. Been there once."

"And what was your impression?"

"I didn't care for it." Hurst lit a cigarillo, something Darcy had never seen him do before. "Oh, the play seems honest enough of its kind. The wine and spirits are first rate, and the girls are pretty. But it doesn't take one long to discover that the upstairs are a scene of--well, of unspeakable vices. Opium and other drugs of course. Women, men--whatever's wanted, they will procure it for you." He smoked for a moment before continuing. "I'm a simple man. I enjoy good food and wine, I like to hunt, I enjoy playing cards. As for women, Louisa is a cozy enough armful, and I see no need for looking elsewhere. I suppose I must be fundamentally decent, because that sort of vice that harms the innocent turns my stomach. It makes me angry." 

Darcy leaned forward in his chair, hands folded loosely on his knees. "What if I told you that we believe Elizabeth Bennet is in that house?" 

Hurst's eyes widened. He tossed the stub of his cigarillo into the fire before speaking. "Well, Darcy, then we must get her out, and quickly. If Miss Bennet is in that house, more than her virtue is at stake. Her life is in danger. I am at your service, Mr. Darcy."

"So you would consider returning there."

"By all means."

"I am in your debt, Hurst. Would you do me the honor of dining with me this evening? It will be an informal dinner at about six o'clock. Miss Bennet's uncle will be present, as will one of my men of business. We will use the time to discuss a strategic approach." He stood and held out his hand.

Hurst stood and shook it. "I will be there, Darcy. But I'll be in my evening clothes in case we decide I should go in there tonight." 

The two men parted, and Darcy returned home. He found a note on his desk from Mr. Gardiner indicating that he had contacted Bingley and promising to return for dinner. Darcy ordered a light luncheon to be brought, and as he ate, he stared into the fire, considering. Matters were proceeding quickly, and although this brought a great measure of relief, it also opened up a new and exceedingly serious problem. His aunt might or might not be brought down with the capture of the two murderers in Bath. In his inmost thoughts, he hoped she would be. The scandal could be outlived. It would be worth it. In the event her age or sex or standing in the world prevented the law from operating, the family would need to put a stop to her. Her victims must be provided for, and her ability to cause any more harm must be taken away from her. 

Darcy realized that he was giving too much attention to the problem. He finished his meal and penned a concise but detailed letter to his cousin Fitzwilliam, who was at present with his regiment in the north of England. It was his hope that Fitzwilliam could get leave to come to London. He was one of the only members of that side of the family whom Darcy trusted implicitly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not resist. I simply could not resist. There's some good in everybody--except perhaps for Lady Catherine.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 14

It was a little after seven by the ormolu clock when Elizabeth awoke that same morning. She could hear no servants or other members of the household stirring, but sleep eluded her. She lit as many candles as she could find, retrieved the ladies' magazines from the mantle, and padded back to her bed. She realized with pleasure that all three of the magazines were brand new, and she had not yet seen any of them. She immediately began looking through them for stories and managed to entertain herself for an hour and a half. 

Ruth arrived at nine with coffee and hot water for washing, and Elizabeth was soon attired in one of her simpler day gowns, hair done, and cosmetics applied. "I would like to have breakfast in my room, if possible, Ruth," said Elizabeth, and the young maid left to bring back a tray.

As Elizabeth ate, and Ruth busied herself about the room, Elizabeth decided it was time to bring up Hunsford. 

"I remember you, Ruth. You were the parlormaid at the parsonage in Hunsford. I remember seeing you while I was visiting this past spring."

"Yes, Miss Bennet. So I was."

"What has brought you to London to this establishment?"

"Lady Catherine decided I should come here to look after my mother, who was also being sent here."

"Your mother was sent here from Hunsford?"

"Yes," said a third voice from the doorway. Ruth's mother, Elizabeth's captor, entered the room, closed the door, and took the seat by the fireplace. Elizabeth turned to face her.

"I shall finish what you have so unwisely started, Ruth," said the woman. Ruth hung her head.

"Pray, go on, Mrs. Oliver," said Elizabeth, turning to face her. "Ruth, find a place to sit." Ruth sat on the hearth rug near her mother's feet.

"It is Miss Oliver," the woman began. "But I thank you." She closed her eyes for a long moment before beginning.

"My father, the Reverend Doctor Charles Oliver, was the rector of Hunsford Parish, a preferment he owed to the late Sir Lewis de Bourgh, husband of Lady Catherine. I was the younger of two sisters, and our mother died in my infancy. My father served Hunsford for many years, and there are still people who remember him fondly for his devotion to God, his dedication to the poor and needy, and his attention to the needs of all the members of his flock. Sir Lewis was considerably older than his wife, and he died when their only child, Anne, was about four years old."

Mrs. Oliver glanced at the clock. "I must try to make a long story short," she murmured. "Let us say that Lady Catherine and my father disagreed substantially concerning the treatment of the poor of the parish. His wish was always to lend them a helping hand. Hers was always to browbeat and punish them. My elder sister married, and when I was about fifteen years of age, the disagreements between my father and Lady Catherine became so pronounced that it was clear something needed to be done.

"Rather than work out the differences, Lady Catherine accused my father of misappropriation of parish moneys intended for the relief of the poor. She was easily able to gather false witnesses, and she took her story to the bishop. Despite the number of people willing to swear to my father's inviolate honor and devotion, she won her case. After a trial, not only did my father find himself no longer the rector of Hunsford Parish, but he found himself no longer a priest in the Church of England.

"It broke him," she said simply. "Lady Catherine 'generously' gave him a cottage on the outskirts of the village at what she called a greatly reduced rent. There we lived as he watched a new man, a far more complaisant man, took over the rectory. I cared for my father for nearly two years, but it became obvious that our small income needed to be increased. I hired a woman to come in and look after my father, and I took a post in London as a governess, sending the bulk of my earnings home for his maintenance." 

Elizabeth could not prevent herself from reaching over to place a hand on Mrs. Oliver's. The gesture was not well received, and she subsided back on to her chair saying, "Go on."

"All went well for the space of half a year. I had two young children in my charge--a boy, Frederick, and a little girl, Amabel--both still in the nursery. Each day we would leave the house in the company of a footman and go to walk in the park. One day, we were crossing a heavily traveled street. A shout went up. The footman got hold of Frederick and pulled him out of the way, and I snatched Amabel up into my arms. We were overridden by a large, heavy waggon with two very large horses. A hoof struck me in the head, knocking me unconscious, but Amabel was crushed and died on the spot."

She held up a hand as if to forestall any comment. "I was exonerated of any wrongdoing. The footman took an oath that he had seen someone push me, and even little Frederick said that he had seen a person come near us. But I was turned off, given no reference, and found myself alone in London.

"I took a cheap room, searched for work sewing or cleaning, found none, and succumbed to the blandishments of my landlady to take up a far worse profession. Within a few months, I found myself with child. I also fell ill with a weakness in my lungs. I gave up and returned home to my father, who received me with open arms as though I had been the prodigal son. We lived on my small savings, and when I had recovered from Ruth's birth, I found work in the village as a daily servant for some of the more well-to-do families. Everyone sympathized with our plight, and no one criticized me or gossiped about me. Even Lady Catherine seemed to take an interest and often exhorted me to work harder in order to improve our situation. So we continued until my father's death two years ago. Ruth was employed at the parsonage, and when the incumbent died and Mr. Collins took over, she stayed on, having achieved the position of parlormaid. 

"We continued to live in the cottage at the edge of the village until three months ago, when under pretext of our having fallen behind with our rent, Lady Catherine sent us to this establishment to work--I as maid-of-all-work, Ruth as lady's maid. Lady Catherine gave me to understand that she is a silent partner in this enterprise and that she expects an abundant return on her investment."

"And who is the other partner?" Elizabeth managed when she was finally able to speak.

"You will meet the other partner soon enough," said Mrs. Oliver glancing at the clock, which showed ten minutes until eleven. "I might as well tell you. The other partner goes by the name of Madame Charpentier. She is, in reality, a Mrs. Younge, the same woman who was my landlady seventeen years ago." She looked over and saw that Elizabeth's eyes had widened. "You recognize the name, Miss Bennet?"

"It--it sounds familiar to me."

Elizabeth worked desperately to conceal her shock. "We have not much time," she said. "And I know not whether you are to be trusted. I will say only this. If I find myself able to escape this place, I will do what I can to ensure that justice is done for you and your daughter."

"If you are able to escape," said Mrs. Oliver. "Now, come. It is time to take you to Madame Charpentier."

* * *

By one o'clock, Elizabeth had returned to her room in a state of near-exhaustion and numbing fear. Ruth, sensing this, had turned down the covers of her bed and laid out a comfortable nightgown. Wordlessly, she helped Elizabeth to undess and change, then led her to the dressing-table where she had laid out a tray with hot consomme, a savory tartlette, and--a thing that tore at Elizabeth's heart--a glass of milk.

"Eat a little, Miss Bennet, and then sleep. I'll make sure you are awake in plenty of time."

Elizabeth complied, and when she had finished the last of her milk, Ruth moved the tray aside, took the pins from Elizabeth's hair, and gently brushed it out. "Now rest," she said, taking the tray and closing the door behind her.

Elizabeth got into bed, ignoring the dull ache in her temples. Coming as it had on the heels of Mrs. Oliver's horrifying story, and her startling announcement about the ownership of this place, the interview with Madame Charpentier had been a genuine ordeal. She longed for her sisters, her parents. She longed for Darcy's strong arms. She reminded herself that she was safe for this evening. She would be dressed by seven, would accompany the other girls to the club next door, and one or two of them would be assigned to guide her as she became accustomed to the two floors allocated to gaming. Madame had reminded her, somewhat ominously, that several gentleman would be watching her with an eye to becoming her "protectors," and that one gentleman would probably be selected for her by Madame Charpentier herself. This was presented as a desirable, most lucrative outcome for Elizabeth herself. Most astonishingly, within the next few days, Elizabeth would be charged for her room, board, clothing, and maid--out of her anticipated earnings. Her new wardrobe represented an advance of several hundred pounds. 

She considered trying to find a way to put a period to her existence and decided against it for the time being. Where there is life, there is hope, she reminded herself, and that option could always be considered later. She found she was mentally committing her family, herself, and her beloved Fitzwilliam to the protection of the Almighty, and with that thought she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indeed the nets of evil are being cast wide and deep, and sometimes the revenge takes years. 
> 
> I want to thank every last person who wrote yesterday! I will answer each note, but until I do, be sure you know that I appreciate them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 15

_The news from London was heartening indeed, and she permitted herself a celebratory glass of Madeira--a treat she seldom indulged in. By tomorrow, Elizabeth Bennet's name would be on everyone's lips as the mistress of one of the most notorious libertines in England. She shuddered delicately at the thought of the Viscount, with whom she was slightly acquainted. He was known to change his mistresses as quickly as they lost their initial bloom. She wondered how soon the upstart would find herself in a shabby room in Drury Lane._

_She scribbled a note and rang for the footman. It was time to activate Collins again--always easier after a good dinner. She would urge him to get an early start for Longbourn on the morrow. Morning prayers were at seven, and if he left immediately afterward in one of her carriages, he could be there by midafternoon. It would be most gratifying indeed to have him deliver to the Bennets the news of their downfall and the loss of their daughter--and then to spread the news through half of Hertfordshire. As she had said before, who indeed would connect themselves to such a family._

_The difficulty in Bath would have to be watched carefully and reckoned with. Since there were no eyewitnesses to the Bennet abduction, it would be impossible to tie the two crimes together. It was tempting just to allow them to be caught and let them hang for the murder. She laid the thought aside as requiring more consideration. For now she would celebrate. By next week she would be welcoming her poor nephew to the autumnal consolations and beauty of Rosings Park._

Having sent his letter to his cousin Fitzwilliam, Darcy found himself pacing his library like a tiger. The temptation to walk down the street and around the corner of Audley Street was almost overwhelming. Of course to do so would be foolhardy. His job this afternoon consisted of patient waiting, something he had never had a talent for. His mind conjured up visions of Elizabeth cold or hungry or frightened--or worse, in the power of someone incredibly vicious. He regarded himself as a rational man, but these imaginings were beyond the scope of mere reason. 

He threw himself back into his chair and took from his pocket the letter Elizabeth had given him on their last morning together--the first and last letter he had ever received from her. It was a simple note, containing a shy declaration of her love for him, her bright hopes for the future, her happiness that he could love her. He had memorized it, but the feel of it in his hands was comforting to him. He looked at the fire and conjured up visions of her face. He told himself that they might be together again very soon. The thought comforted him, and he fell into an exhausted slumber.

He was found there at five o'clock by Sergeant Parker, who first and foremost heeded the old soldiers' axiom that no opportunity to sleep should ever be wasted. He sat quietly in a chair far enough from Darcy that his rest would not be disturbed. As was fitting, Parker rigidly separated his work from his personal sentiments. But he admired Darcy for his honesty and morality. He had been privy to enough of Darcy's business dealings to know that he was openhanded with the poor and did not exploit anyone in his far flung employ. If he had a failing, it was that his inherent goodness had blinded him to the evil that was so close to him. Parker knew now, and he would regard it as his own duty to point the evil out to Darcy whenever it was necessary. 

In a few minutes, Mr. Gardiner came in, and Darcy awakened completely ready for the business at hand. As the three men settled in, he made his announcement. "Bingley's brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, has entrance to the club in Audley Street. He enjoys cards, and he told me today that he indulges occasionally in an evening of deep play, subject to the limits of his purse. Parker, he shares your impression and opinion of the other activities available at the establishment, but he has placed himself entirely at our service. He will be dining with us at six, and he is ready to go into the club this evening, should we arrive at that decision." 

"Excellent," said Mr. Gardiner. "I was beginning to wonder how we would ever get in there."

"I am assuming that Miss Bennet and Mr. Hurst are known to each other," said Parker.

"They are well known to each other, having been guests in the same household and having attended a number of balls, dinners, assemblies, and the like."

"Wickham is out of his rooms," Parker added. "He is in the club." 

At that moment, they were joined by Mr. Hurst himself, in evening dress as promised. Darcy thought he looked more alert than usual--his eyes were not puffy, and he was certainly showing no signs of his usual indolence. After introductions, the four men went in to dinner--and to get down to business.

* * *

Elizabeth was awakened at five by Ruth, who had arrived with a tray. "This is a light, nourishing supper, Miss Bennet. You should do your best to finish it. You may be expected to consume a glass of wine, and you will be sorry if you have not eaten something." 

Elizabeth did her best with her supper while trying to keep her hands from shaking. She could not recall ever having been so terrified in her life. It was like being awakened on the morning of one's execution. Her stomach churned, and she felt dizzy and light-headed.

After her supper, she abandoned her soft nightgown in favor of a silk chemise, silk stockings, and fine French kid slippers. Ruth laced her into the corset and seated her at the dressing-table. Many candles were lit, and Ruth dressed her hair in the simple topknot and curls she had devised the day before. The rouge-pots came out, and her lips and cheeks were stained a much deeper color than they had been the day before. Ruth chose a sophisticated scent and applied it carefully, and to finish, she dusted Elizabeth's bosom and neck very lightly with powder. "It may be warm," she said by way of explanation.

Finally, Ruth extracted from her pocket a box containing pearl earrings and a necklace of matched pearls. "I'm told to tell you that you will be responsible for these. You are to wear them until you have been given gifts of jewelry from your admirers," she said. "Your gold necklace of cross with inset topazes will be kept as surety."

"A gift from my parents on my confirmation," murmured Elizabeth as she dutifully put on the earrings and allowed Ruth to fasten the pearls.

"I'm sure they know that," replied Ruth. She drew a deep breath, squeezed Elizabeth's hand, and said, "It's time to put on your gown."

Elizabeth's heart sank when Ruth brought out the ruby silk. "I was dreading that one," she said quietly.

"I knew that, but it was ordered that you wear it." Ruth drew the gown carefully over Elizabeth's head without disturbing her coiffure and settled it on her form before beginning to fasten it. Elizabeth noted, but did not mention, that the gown fastened quite easily. She refrained from attempting to adjust it over her bosom and stood quietly as Ruth helped her put on the long gloves. They had begun to hear murmuring, feminine voices in the hall, and light footfalls. Ruth handed her a lace fan and a handkerchief.

"It's time," said Ruth. "I will walk down with you. I want to say--I want to say, God bless you, and I will be here when you return to tend to you." She pulled Elizabeth's arm through her own, and the two young women took their place in the group of young women walking downstairs.

Elizabeth was surprised to find only ten or twelve girls waiting near the back door. Most were lovely, and all were beautifully gowned. Many ensembles boasted beautiful jewels--necklaces, bracelets, pendants, earrings, and hair ornaments--all were in evidence. Ruth squeezed Elizabeth's hand and melted away. 

The girls divided into two lines against the walls of the back hall, and Madame Charpentier, beautifully gowned, swept between them. She cast a sharp eye on each girl, nodded her approval, and led the way to the rear door. Two burly footmen awaited them, and the back garden was illuminated by lanterns which made it possible to see the path. Each girl linked arms with the one next to her, and they swept through the garden, up the back steps of the neighboring house, and into the small vestibule at the back of the house. 

Madame Charpentier detained Elizabeth and the girl she had walked over with. "Sophie," she began. "This is Elizabeth. You are to keep an eye on her, take her around the gaming tables, and ensure that she behaves properly. She is not to engage in private conversation with any of the gentlemen. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Madame," replied Sophie. She beckoned to Elizabeth, and the two walked down the hallway and entered the main salon much as two debutantes might have entered a ballroom. Elizabeth was conscious of tasteful candlelight, odors of wine, tobacco, and sweat, the gleam of gold coins on polished wood, and the sound of masculine voices which stilled momentarily when she entered but which soon regained their original intensity. 

Sophie gestured to the table at their right. "The gentlemen there are playing Hazard. It is a game of dice," she began. "While here on my left, they are playing Macau. Both games are played for very high stakes. It is important not to speak to any of the gentlemen who are playing here unless they greet you first." They moved slowly through the room, Sophie occasionally exchanging a greeting with someone, and when they reached the double doors at the back, a footman offered them flutes of champagne. Sophie gestured for Elizabeth to take one. "Nurse it," she said quietly. Do not drink too much."

They entered the back room, where smaller tables entertained gentlemen playing games more familiar to Elizabeth including whist and piquet. She received more than one admiring glance, and more than one murmured greeting, but she did not recognize anyone she saw.

* * *

"There she is," said George Wickham in his most ingratiating tones. "Is she not lovely? Truly, Viscount, a diamond of the first water." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "And I'll vouch that she's as pure as the driven snow. The chosen betrothed of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy until the unfortunate news about her family became known. The Viscount sat with his eye glued to the strategic gap in the velvet draperies. Wickham sat beside and a little behind him in the hidden alcove, speaking quietly but persuasively.

Wickham felt he should be earning hazardous duty pay. The Viscount was truly odious. Well past middle age, he attempted to display his form to best advantage by means of a corset which creaked ominously. His hair was dyed and pomaded, his wrinkles were concealed by a careful maquillage, and his thin legs were carefully padded. The combined efforts of his barber, his tailor, and his valet had fallen flat before the multiple failures of his dentist. His breath was worse than that of a street dog, and in combination with the man's reek of sour sweat, it was giving Wickham a headache. The only attractive part about him was his fortune, and he could not give that away. There was no mama in England who would see her precious daughter allied with such a monster. It was quietly whispered that he suffered from the French disease.

"Refresh my memory again on the figure," said the Viscount without removing his eye from the curtain.

Wickham murmured a truly staggering sum.

"Don't yet know if she's worth it," replied the old man. "But I'll give it my careful consideration. That little blonde she's with is quite an armful."

"Yes, she is lovely. But with her you would not enjoy the experience of being her first lover, of introducing her to all the pleasures Cupid has in store for her--and for you. With the brunette, all that would be yours. And you must admit, she is incomparable."

"Her, ah, pristine condition is a strong inducement. I see they've gone back into the front room. I'd best change seats with you."

As they moved to change places, Wickham observed with mingled satisfaction and disgust that the Viscount was already showing evidence of being interested--very interested--in Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He sighed and replenished the Viscount's glass of fine Madeira.

* * *

Sophie had stopped to chat with a gentleman she obviously knew well, and Elizabeth carefully sauntered back into the front room, surveying it from the door before she entered. To her astonishment, she spied Mr. Hurst playing Macau. He already had a small trove of gold in front of him. As she stood wondering what to do, he turned around and saw her.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" Hurst's voice was loud enough to carry. "Well met!" As she approached him, his eyes--often so puffy and sleepy--looked into hers intently. As she watched, they seemed to shift quickly towards the front door before resting on her again. Elizabeth approached him and curtsied before offering her hand, and he squeezed it tightly as he shook it. His eyes caught and held hers again. "What brings you here, Miss Bennet?" The room fell silent.

It was a gamble more desperate than any being played out in that room, and Elizabeth took it. "How do you do, Mr. Hurst? I am being held here against my will," she replied in a light, clear voice which also carried to the edges of the room.

"Are you indeed?" He picked up and pocketed his winnings and offered her his arm. "Then permit me the honor of restoring you to your family. Everyone in Hertfordshire and half of London is searching for you following your recent abduction from your father's manor." 

Elizabeth quickly removed the necklace and earrings and dropped them on the table. Then she took Mr. Hurst's arm and allowed him to escort her from the room and out the front door. There was a formidable doorman with several other burly men, and Hurst drew her closer and stared them down. They walked down the steps and turned on to the walkway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah! She's out. 
> 
> The "French disease" was of course syphilis, for which there was no cure.
> 
> "Deep play" in the context of this story refers to gambling for very high stakes.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

Chapter 16

"Miss Bennet, there is no need to shake so," said Mr. Hurst quietly. "You are safe. I am taking you to Mr. Darcy, and there are men all around you ready to come to your defense. Hold your head high and keep walking as if I were escorting you home from Grosvenor Street." Elizabeth murmured her thanks, and when they had at last reached the corner, they were joined by another man. Elizabeth noted that he was tall, plainly dressed, and walked with a pronounced limp. 

"Permit me to introduce Sergeant Parker," Mr. Hurst went on in the same quiet voice. "He is one of Darcy's men of business, and he has been leading the efforts to find you." 

Elizabeth nodded, took the sergeant's offered arm, and continued walking between the two men. The walk seemed endless. She had never seen Darcy's town house before and was unsure of how far away it was. 

"They would not dare to detain us," said Hurst. "Your abduction from your family has become quite public. Everyone in that club knows of it." 

Then, suddenly, they were stopped in front of an imposing home with lights blazing from every window. The door opened, a tall figure rushed down the front steps, and she was in his arms. He swept her up and carried her inside, and someone shut the door, and she was safe. 

"I never gave up hope. I was ready to go to the ends of the earth for you," he murmured against her lips. Elizabeth said nothing, but tangled her fingers in his hair and brought his face down to hers for another kiss. The safety of his arms made her feel faint, as though they were the only reality. She felt she could rest for the first time in days. 

"I knew you were searching for me. I could feel it somehow. I tried so hard to discover a way to escape," said Elizabeth. And after another kiss, "Fitzwilliam, they did not hurt me." 

"I would have killed them if they had." Finally, he tore himself away from her and said, "We must not forget the others. There is still a great deal of work to be done." 

Elizabeth stood on tiptoe and whispered, "Your coat. May I have it?" When he looked at her in some confusion, she added, "This gown. It--it was made to shame any woman who wears it." 

He removed his coat immediately and helped her into it, buttoning it tenderly and rolling up the sleeves until she could find her hands. "There you are, my dearest. I will get you something better in a moment." The coat carried his warmth and his scent, and Elizabeth felt shielded from the world. 

They turned together and walked into the book room, where Elizabeth found herself in the embrace of her Uncle Gardiner. "My dear little Lizzy, I am so glad to have seen this day. Your father and mother--your sisters--all of us. Thank God you are returned to us." Elizabeth wept in his arms, unable to speak. 

When she had composed herself, she turned to Mr. Hurst, holding out her hands. "I know not what to say, sir," she began. "You have saved me from the lions' den." 

"A pleasure, Miss Bennet," he replied, patting her hand awkwardly. "Give these people an inch, and they'll take an ell. They need to be stopped. I shall continue to be of whatever service I can be. But I must say, it gave me great pleasure to escort you out of there right under their noses." Hurst seemed to have forgotten his usual sloth and indolence. He shook her hand again before turning to Darcy. "If you've no more need of me tonight, Darcy, I'd like to get home to my bed. I'll wait on you tomorrow at--let us say noon."

"Allow me to send you home in my carriage," Darcy replied. "And with one of Parker's men. We need to be cautious." He stepped briefly into the front hall and ordered a carriage. Parker also disappeared for a few moments. When Darcy returned, he went on. "I have no way to thank you sufficiently, Hurst. You recovered this whole operation for us. I thank Heaven I mentioned it to you this morning." The two men shook hands. "By tomorrow we should be ready to take on the next problem," he added as they parted. 

Parker returned. "Mr. Hurst is on his way home, and a guard will be in place at his house tonight. I have also dispatched a rider to Longbourn to let them know the good news. I suspect they may receive a visit from Mr. Collins tomorrow, and I had some suggestions for Mr. Bennet as to what to do. I am certain you will want to write at more length later, sir. Oh. And I ordered tea and requested the presence of the housekeeper." 

Mrs. Jenkins came bustling in a few minutes later with the tea tray, and Darcy took her aside for a quiet conversation. "Of course sir," she replied. "Come with me, Miss Bennet, my lamb. We'll soon have you set to rights." 

The housekeeper's parlor was warm and cozy, lit by a comfortable fire. Elizabeth thought it one of the most cheerful rooms she had ever seen. Mrs. Jenkins bustled around and soon emerged from her bedroom with a gown, which she handed to Elizabeth. "Let me help you get out of this frippery," she said. "No wonder you wanted a change. This gown belongs to my niece, and it will fit you very well, I think."

The silk soon lay at Elizabeth's feet, and she kicked it away. "Will you please assist me with the corset, Mrs. Jenkins? I really have no wish to be wearing it."

"You hardly need it, do you, my lamb?" replied Mrs. Jenkins. In moments, Elizabeth was luxuriating in a soft, gray gown of plain stuff, long-sleeved and mercifully high-necked. As the housekeeper adjusted the fastenings, she noticed that her charge was shivering. She disappeared into the inner room again, and soon Elizabeth was enveloped in a thick, warm merino shawl. Warm water and a soft cloth took care of the rouge, and Mrs. Jenkins escorted her back upstairs.

She was soon ensconced on a sofa by the fire in the book room, comforted by Darcy's solid form just beside her. Someone gave her a cup of tea, and someone else loaded a plate with biscuits and fruit. She ate hungrily and finally managed to ask "What time is it?"

"A little before ten, dearest. Are you tired?" 

"No. Not at all. I slept for several hours this afternoon. For these past two days, as I realized my situation, I believe sleep became a means of escape. I don't like to interrupt your conversation, Mr. Darcy, but there are one or two things of great importance. I would like to relate them while they are still fresh in my memory."

"This is the ideal opportunity," he replied. "Sergeant Parker enjoys my complete confidence as well as that of your uncle and father. You may speak freely." He poured her another cup of tea and sat beside her again.

"First there is the question of the Olivers, Mrs. Oliver and her daughter, Ruth. They are from Hunsford, and Ruth was the parlormaid in the parsonage while we were all there last spring." The three men listened intently as she related her story of the Olivers, beginning with the first encounter in what she called her "dungeon." She continued with Mrs. Oliver's history and finished with Ruth's promise to await her return that same evening. "I am somewhat concerned for several reasons. I wonder if they are in that establishment of their own free will. I am also worried about a valuable necklace. I had no jewels to wear with that--that gown, and Ruth brought me a necklace of matched pearls and pearl earrings this evening. She gave me to understand that I would be responsible for them until--until," here she blushed deeply and took a sip of her tea before continuing. "Until I had acquired jewels of my own. I took the necklace and earrings off and left them on the table where Mr. Hurst was sitting." 

Darcy took her hand and held it without saying anything. 

"You should also know that Madame Charpentier and Mrs. Younge are one and the same person." Elizabeth paused for thought before continuing. "I know that eventually you will want the entire story of the abduction. But until you are ready for that, let me relate just one or two points. On that morning, I was placed in a cart of some sort by two men and driven to a place near the London road. When they approached me in the back of the cart, I begged to be allowed to--to be escorted to a place of retirement behind the hedgerow. This was done, and they removed my blindfold and the rope tying my hands. I looked about me as much as I could, and I observed the two men, the cart, a carriage with another horse, and a third man. He was attired in smock-frock as were the other two, and his face was concealed. But he had on trousers--not a farmer's leggings. And he was wearing Hessian boots." She stopped once again to gather her thoughts. "He was tall and of slender build. I thought--and I still think--that it might have been George Wickham." 

"Everything you have said bears out the observations of others, Miss Bennet," replied Parker. "Right down to the boots, which left plenty of prints by the London road." 

"If Lady Catherine is in the habit of getting rid of people she does not like," said Elizabeth steadily. "Then she is somehow making use of Mrs. Younge and of George Wickham." She began to shiver, and Darcy put an arm around her shoulder. "My escape was fortunate indeed." 

Parker stood. "Miss Bennet, your observations are of invaluable assistance, and I hope we may speak further after you have rested." he said. Turning to Darcy, he continued. "I must go out to check on the guards and to see what is occurring in Audley Street. I shall return in a half-hour or so. At that time, you might wish to make arrangements to take Miss Bennet to her uncle's home, where I presume she will be staying tonight." 

He turned and left. Darcy's arm tightened around Elizabeth as he sat looking at Mr. Gardiner. "Propriety demands that Elizabeth come to you and Mrs. Gardiner," he said. "Yet I cannot give her up. I cannot allow her to leave, yet she cannot stay. I would marry her tomorrow if I could." 

"Mr. Darcy," replied Gardiner in a voice filled with compassion. "Any man would feel exactly as you do. I would feel the same way about my own wife and daughters." He stopped and thought for a moment. "I have a proposal. Come and stay with us in Gracechurch Street, at least for tonight. The brigands will not find you there, as I doubt they know anything about my home or my direction." He smiled at Elizabeth, and she returned the smile. "Lizzy always sleeps in the room with our girls when she visits. We'll simply give you the spare bed in the room with our boys. Four children should be chaperones enough for anyone. I only hope the bed may be long enough for you. As for marrying my niece tomorrow, the idea has merit, Mr. Darcy. What about the next day?"

Elizabeth smiled up at Darcy, who said, "I would not wish to inconvenience Mrs. Gardiner too much by being an unexpected guest."

"You need not worry. She will be so happy to see our Lizzy restored to us that she will not mind at all."

"On the subject of marrying your niece day after tomorrow, I am for it. Let us discuss it tomorrow." He smiled down at Elizabeth. 

Sergeant Parker returned, and Darcy stepped out to order his carriage and to have a bag packed for himself. They would have to concern themselves with Elizabeth's clothing on the morrow. As they prepared to leave, Mrs. Jenkins appeared with a small bag which she handed to Elizabeth. "A fresh gown for tomorrow and a few things you might need." Elizabeth pressed her hand.

When all was ready, two footmen led the small procession out to the waiting carriage. Darcy assisted Elizabeth to enter and stood back to allow Mr. Gardiner to go next. A figure emerged from the shadows beside the house, and a familiar voice assailed him. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Darcy and his tarnished rose," said George Wickham.

Darcy took a step forward as Parker's hand tightened around his bicep in an iron grip. "Not yet," breathed the sergeant through clenched teeth.

Wickham sketched an exaggerated bow and kissed his hand toward the carriage. "Yes, we spent such an enchanting afternoon together a few short days ago. The trip from Longbourn to London was truly idyllic, wasn't it, Elizabeth? Three uninterrupted hours of pure delight."

Parker, hand still on Darcy's arm, spoke up. "So, lad. You're sayin' you were at Longbourn?" Parker's voice had unaccountably picked up some of the accents of his youth in Derbyshire.

"And who might you be?" asked Wickham, peering owlishly through the darkness.

"Eh, just one of the local farmer's lads, come to London to seek my fortune," replied Parker. "But I remember you. You're Mr. Wickham's son, as was Old Mr. Darcy's steward. May he rest in peace."

"Well, eh, well, whoever you are, the answer to your question is yes and no. I was not at Longbourn. I anxiously awaited Miss Bennet's arrival at the London road with my carriage, ready to whisk her away to her new life here. She was escorted to me by two of my servants. Unlike yourself, they are sophisticated Londoners."

"Ah, see." Parker turned to Darcy. "Well, Mr. Darcy, it's time we be getting along now." He bowed Darcy into the carriage and jumped in behind him. The carriage started up slowly and moved off through the streets.

"He's a dead man," said Parker. "He'll hang himself by his own bragging mouth." 

"How so?" asked Darcy from his seat beside Elizabeth. He held her hand in a tight grasp.

"Everything he says ties him more closely to the murderers in Bath."

"Murderers in Bath?" Elizabeth was clearly puzzled.

"My aunt is frequently careless. We received word that yesterday in Bath, Miss Caroline Bingley was set upon by two men while walking in a park. They murdered the footman who was accompanying her. Miss Bingley was injured, but it is anticipated that her injuries will not be severe. She was very fortunate." 

"I am at a loss for words," returned Elizabeth.

"So were we all. Bingley was at Longbourn assisting your father, but by now he has certainly left to go to his sister. It is a very long story, dearest, and we will unravel it once you have had a safe and comfortable night's rest." 

In a few minutes the carriage arrived at the house in Gracechurch Street, and Elizabeth was in the arms of her delighted aunt. She enjoyed a night of deep, peaceful slumber in the certainty that Darcy was somewhere nearby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, so good.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 17

It is impossible to describe the joy and wonder of Elizabeth's family when the word of her safe return reached them. The messenger had ridden through the night and arrived there before sunrise. Mr. Bennet, realizing that everyone had been awakened by the messenger's arrival, gathered the girls and Hill in Mrs. Bennet's room. They were sworn to secrecy, and he told them that Elizabeth was by now safe with her aunt and uncle. Many happy tears were shed, but Mrs. Bennet had the most gratifying reaction of all. After so many days of silence following her stroke, she said, very distinctly, "My dear Lizzie."

The hand-carried message from Sergeant Parker had not only conveyed the good news about Elizabeth, it provided some salient details regarding the involvement of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She was responsible for Elizabeth's abduction and was also behind everything else that had happened, including Lydia's near abduction, the attack on Miss Bingley and the murder of her footman, as well as a number of other crimes yet to be uncovered. Sergeant Parker strongly suggested that the Bennet daughters remain at home and not be permitted to go out without a male escort to watch over them. He included the gardens and grounds in that restriction. He closed by reiterating that Elizabeth was safe and urging Mr. Bennet not to be taken in by any assertions to the contrary.

In light of Mr. Collins' appearance after Lydia had disappeared, Mr. Bennet was warned that a visit of condolence from Mr. Collins was probably imminent and could prove useful in their pursuit of Lady Catherine. The sergeant strongly suggested that this visit take place in the presence of a witness, and that the witness not be a member of the family or a dependent or servant. He cautioned--somewhat needlessly--against involving any of the Lucases.

Hill arrived at that moment with a tray of coffee and indicated that, as everyone was up, an early breakfast was being prepared. Mr. Bennet sat for a few moments lost in thought. Bingley, who had been singularly helpful, had left the day before to go to his sisters in Bath. He needed a neighbor who was intelligent, reliable, and who could above all keep his own counsel. He settled on Sir Henry Martin, whose estate was situated on the other side of Meryton. Sir Henry was a baronet, and he and Mr. Bennet had been acquainted since their boyhoods. He served as one of the two local magistrates, and his reputation and his familiarity with the law were above reproach. Most importantly, he had been very forthcoming with assistance to the Bennets during the desperate search for Elizabeth. Mr Bennet wrote him a detailed note asking him to call at Longbourn that very day, and it was soon dispatched.

A glance at the clock told him that it was half past seven, and the aromas from the dining room signaled that their very early breakfast was ready. He went to the dining room where he found Jane and Mary. As he served himself, Jane regarded him with a tired smile. "Kitty and Lydia are with Mama," she said. "Mama has signaled that she wishes to have her hair dressed and to sit in her chair for a while this morning."

"Excellent," said her father. "I shall go upstairs when she is ready."

"And she ate, Papa," added Mary. "She distinctly said 'scones,' and Hill brought her tea and scones, and she ate one with butter and jam, and drank her tea." They are her favorites, though we never have them for breakfast."

"That is good news indeed," replied Mr. Bennet. "I expect we shall soon find her as talkative as ever." He laid down his knife and fork. "Jane, Mary, I have something very serious to discuss with you, and you must tell your sisters. For the time being, none of you is to go outside without a male escort. Not even to the garden, not even to cut flowers. I am sorry for the restriction, but it is for your own safety. I will have Hill ask Jem or Tim to be available to you whenever possible. You must be certain your sisters understand the importance of this."

"There is still danger, Papa?" asked Jane.

"There is still danger." Mr. Bennet did not tell his daughters that the danger might be worse than ever. "I hope it will not be for too long."

When he had finished his breakfast, he returned to his library. The child Ezra and his father were expected at nine o'clock. He hoped that the boy might have further helpful recollections. Children sometimes needed only to have the right questions asked.

When the Crofts arrived, Mr. Bennet went out to greet them. He shook Ezra's hand, saying, "Would you take a short walk with me?" Ezra, as he had before, took Mr. Bennet by the hand, and they started off. "I thought I might show you my favorite hiding place," said Mr. Bennet.

"You have a hiding place, sir?"

"Certainly. If you had that many girls in your family would you not want a hiding place?"

They strolled to the edge of the lawn, where a large tree stood. Beneath its branches, half hidden from view, was a comfortable bench. Mr. Bennet held the branches aside and said, "Come in! Please sit down."

Once they were seated, Mr. Bennet went on. "Ezra, you have been such a helpful boy. Those things you told us about the two men and the cart have helped us find Miss Elizabeth. She is safe now."

"She is!"

"Yes. And I know she will want to thank you herself when she gets home. What I want to talk to you about is this. If you think very hard, can you remember anything else about those two men? It's very important for you not to tell me anything that is not true, just because you want to help or because you think I might like to hear it. But if you sit and think quietly, can you remember anything at all?"

"Can you tell me what sorts of things, sir?"

"Were they tall or short, thin or fat? Did they have beards? What color was their hair? Or their hats? Anything odd about their appearance like a crooked nose?"

With the help of Mr. Bennet's secret supply of peppermints, which he kept in a tin in his pocket, Ezra was able to recall several helpful facts. Both men wore dilapidated felt hats rather than the straw hats favored by the area's farmers. One was tall and stout, about the height of Ezra's own father, but stouter. The other was about Mr. Bennet's size and was not fat. Neither man wore a beard, but both men looked as if they needed to shave. Their smocks were clean and their boots were new. Ezra thought, but was not completely sure, that one of them, the tall one, had a missing finger on his right hand. It might have been the middle finger, and only half of it was gone. He was not driving the cart.

When the boy said, "Those are all the things I truly remember, sir," Mr. Bennet stood up and shook his hand--now sticky with peppermint.

"You have helped a great deal, Ezra, and I will tell your father he can be proud of you." A second coin of unspecified value changed hands, and Mr. Bennet also handed over his treasure trove of peppermints. The boy took his hand, and the two strolled back across the lawn to Ezra's father.

Shortly after their departure, Mr. Bennet sat in his library beginning his letter to London. He carefully described his conversation with Ezra, his efforts to win the boy's trust, and all of Ezra's recollections. His information about the missing finger should be of great help.

He had just laid aside his letter when Sir Henry was announced and strode into the room. "Very happy to hear your good news, Bennet," said Sir Henry, clapping him on the shoulder as they shook hands. "But what is all this about the gossiping clergyman? Help me to understand better so that I may be of assistance to you and your family."

Mr. Bennet explained that in the case of Lydia, Collins had been a bit too premature with his condolences. "He had ridden all the way from Hunsford to condole on Lydia's downfall when, in actual fact, Lydia had already been restored to our family completely unharmed. It was very odd; Collins knew about Lydia before the news of her disappearance could have possibly reached him in Kent. If Collins does appear again to condole with us prematurely, we must persuade him to own up to the source of his information. We might be able to confirm our suspicions about his patroness, Darcy's own aunt.”

Sir Henry smiled. "And you expect him to make a similar call of condolence for Elizabeth's downfall this afternoon."

"I do. As Mr. Darcy has pointed out, his aunt has deep pockets and many people in her employ. But she frequently fails to think things through. My own opinion is that she is unable to delay her own gratification when she believes her plans have succeeded. It is a grievous failing in one who is bent on doing evil."

Hill interrupted them with a large tray on which were set bread, butter, cold beef, cheese, and a pitcher of home-brewed ale, which she knew to be Sir Henry's favorite. The two men busied themselves with this satisfying luncheon while Mr. Bennet brought up their failure to locate the owner of the cart."

"Mmm," replied Sir Henry, chewing meditatively. He took a swallow of ale before continuing. "You might be looking in the wrong place, Bennet. It seems to me that they would want to present themselves in this neighborhood as an accomplished fact. If I had the doing of it, I would go to the next toll-gate on the road to London and inquire among the village and a few neighboring farms. Brookfield is near that toll-gate, and it is but half the size of Meryton. Your inquiries would not take long."

"That is a fine idea," replied Mr. Bennet. "I will begin the task tomorrow morning."

As they finished their luncheon, the deep rumble of carriage wheels was heard from the sweep, and both men's eyes turned to the window. "A large equipage for a parson," observed Sir Henry. Indeed, a barouche drawn by four matched bays and complete with liveried coachman and footmen had stopped in front of the house.

"It must belong to Lady Catherine," replied Mr. Bennet. "Ah, yes, look who is getting out."

A footman let down the steps and stood at attention as the Reverend William Collins, equipped with his black thorn walking stick and his large Prayer Book, descended regally to the gravel  
sweep. One of the maids rushed into the library to remove the luncheon tray, and within moments, Hill knocked to announce Mr. Collins.

"Sir Henry Martin, may I present my cousin, the Reverend William Collins," intoned Mr. Bennet. After they had shaken hands and taken their seats, he went on. "What brings you to us in such a fine carriage, Mr. Collins?"

"I have been sent by my gracious patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself, to condole with you on the tragedy which has now befallen you," began the parson. "I had hoped to condole with Mrs. Bennet also."

"Mrs. Bennet is ill and does not leave her room at present," replied Mr. Bennet. "But Sir Henry and I are old friends. You may condole with us as much as you please." An awkward pause ensued, and Mr. Bennet continued. "Pray, what news do you have that has prompted you to come all this way to condole with us?"

"Well, that your second-eldest daughter Elizabeth has become--" Here he paused, lowered his eyes, blushed, and covered his mouth before continuing. "That she has left her friends and her family, that she has forsaken her betrothed, one of the finest men in all England, in favor of the--the, ah, protection of Viscount __, one of the most notorious men in London."

Mr. Bennet lowered his eyes and covered his mouth with his handkerchief, unable to look up. "Yes," he murmured. "These are heavy misfortunes indeed."

"I am directed by Lady Catherine to convey her deepest sympathy. Your second daughter’s immoral actions have ruined your family. Of course no respectable man will wish to marry your daughters. I count myself indeed fortunate in my choice of wife last November. And Lady Catherine believes that positions as governesses or teachers are unsuited to those with such a tendency to moral turpitude within the family. But after a suitable interval to allow the scandal to die down, Lady Catherine will make every effort to find posts as housemaids for your other daughters."

"Lady Catherine is too kind," replied Mr. Bennet, continuing to cover his mouth with his handkerchief."

"And now, let us pray," replied Mr. Collins, brandishing his prayer book.

"Before we get to that," said Sir Henry. "I am curious as to where Lady Catherine de Bourgh receives her information. She is always so well-informed."

Collins, ever ready to accommodate those of higher rank, was ready with his reply. "Much of it comes from the Lucases here in Hertfordshire. They are the family of my dear wife, the former Miss Charlotte Lucas."

"Yes, I do know the Lucases very well. But, unless they have military couriers and an unlimited number of fast horses, it is difficult to understand how the Lucases can always be 'au fait' with what is happening here or in London before their neighbors here know anything about it--and then send word into Kent. This seems to have been the case with Miss Lydia Bennet, and it is now the case with Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He held up an autocratic hand when he perceived that Collins was about to interrupt. "Forgive me, sir, but you seem either unwilling or unable to relate plainly the source of your information. 

"I am told, sir, that it is common knowledge in London. That alone would be injurious to the credit of any young lady."

"I cannot argue with you there," returned Sir Henry. "Indeed it would be injurious were it common knowledge. However, I cannot imagine that you were willing to drive fifty miles to act upon common knowledge, you must have a better source than that. Mr. Collins, you have not answered my question. How exactly to you learn this information? Who told you? Common knowledge is not an argument which would be acceptable in, for example, hearings or inquiries I might be conducting."

Mr. Collins drew himself up. "My information, Sir Henry, comes from the most unimpeachable source possible, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She told me the news of Miss Elizabeth's downfall herself just last evening and encouraged me to attend my cousins at once to support them in their time of great need. Lady Catherine is of such exalted rank, of such great distinction, of such Christian virtue, that her information must be of the highest quality. It is not for me to question her. And I would suggest that you should refrain from doing so as well."

Sir Henry sat back in his chair, looked over at Mr. Bennet, raised an eyebrow, lit a match, and proceeded to ignite a cigar of such prodigious dimensions, and such commanding odor, that it could compel grown men to weep.

Indeed, Mr. Collins employed his handkerchief and coughed several times before managing, "Shall we pray, Mr. Bennet?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Collins. I do not wish to trouble you since you are already so deeply affected," replied Mr. Bennet. He stood and extended his hand, as did Sir Henry. "Dr. Price is always at our service. I must warn you, Mr. Collins, not to spread idle gossip concerning my family or any of my daughters, especially Elizabeth. You will regret it if you do. Now, let me see you safely into your carriage. I will be certain to convey your message to Mrs. Bennet."

With that, he opened the door to his library and led the way outside. He and Sir Henry stood near the door and waved as the carriage bowled majestically back down the drive, presumably on its way back to Hunsford. Sir Henry ordered his own more modest carriage brought around, and he and Mr. Bennet sat on a bench to wait for it. "The man is an ass, Bennet," he said flatly. "He is saying and doing whatever she orders him to say and do. The most damning statement was his repetition of her offer to turn the girls into housemaids. It would then be easy enough for her to send housemaids off to an abbess in London. In fact, it appears she has already done so. The second most damning was his assertion that Elizabeth now enjoys the protection of the Viscount. Since we know that she is safe under her uncle's protection and guarded by Mr. Darcy's men, this can only have been her plan for Elizabeth that somehow went awry. I will be pleased to swear to any or all of this in any court in the land, and when I return home this afternoon, I will write out careful notes of all that I saw and heard. I will also get an express off to the magistrates in Bath detailing the information given you by the boy this morning. And especially the missing finger."

The two men stood and shook hands as the carriage came around. "I do not know how to thank you, Martin," said Mr. Bennet.

"Believe me, it has been a pleasure. By the way, how is Fanny?"

"She is greatly improved. She ate a good breakfast for the first time and sat up for a while."

"Give her my compliments, and Betsy sends her love as well. She will be overjoyed to hear the good news."

The two men parted, and Mr. Bennet returned to the house to finish his letter and send it off to London. Once that was done, he straightened his neckcloth and went upstairs to see his wife and daughters. 

He found his wife seated in her armchair, carefully wrapped in a quilt and surrounded by four of her daughters. It was evident that she had taken great care with her toilette. Mr. Bennet accepted a cup of tea and sat beside her. "Well, Mrs. Bennet, I have always said you are as handsome as any of your daughters, and it seems I was right. And that is a most fetching cap. Very becoming on you."

She smiled, and it was evident that no paralysis existed in her face. "Oh, Mr. Bennet," she said carefully. Then she caught his hand and said, "So happy about Lizzie.

"We all are, my dear. She is safe and well guarded, and you can be easy on that head and devote all your energies to getting well." He squeezed her hand and put down his cup. "Now, I still have letters to write. I will stop by again later to see that you have fallen asleep. Now, Kitty and Lydia, I would like to speak with you in my library."

Once his younger daughters were seated, Mr. Bennet said, "This will not take long, and you are not in any trouble. I am sure Jane has already told you, but I am telling you again because it is very important. You are not to go out of the front door, even to the garden or the grounds, without a man to escort you. I will ask Mrs. Hill to have her sons undertake this task. If you wish to go into Meryton, we will arrange for the carriage. I hope that this confinement will be of short duration, but your safety is at risk, and you must abide by my orders for the present."

Lydia was uncharacteristically serious. "It is Wickham, is it not, Papa? He wishes to do us harm. I cannot imagine why. What did we ever do to him?"

"You are right, my dear. It might be Wickham, or it might be someone else. Someday, we may understand the answer to your second question. But for now, we must ensure your safety." 

"I will do just as you say, Papa, and Kitty will, too. He is a bad man. It is too bad he is so charming."

With that, Mr. Bennet dismissed the two girls and turned his attention to his final task of the day, one that would give him great pleasure. He felt the need to write to Lady Catherine de Bourgh. After careful consideration, he wrote his letter as follows:

_I wish to thank your ladyship for your kind and Christian concern for my daughter, Elizabeth, lately abducted from my home. Our latest information is that she is safe in London, having been snatched from the jaws of ruin and disgrace by a gentleman of our acquaintance who happened to encounter her and realize that she was being held against her will._

_While it is most kind of your ladyship to send Mr. Collins to condole with us whenever one of my daughters is abducted, he seems to have a regrettable tendency towards acting on information of doubtful veracity. The Reverend Doctor Hugh Price, Rector of the parish at Longbourn, is a godly, righteous, and sober man of sound learning and unquestionable probity. He is ready at all times to provide spiritual consolation and wise counsel._

_I therefore venture to suggest to your ladyship that you keep Mr. Collins by your side in Kent, where he is less likely to get into trouble. I have no need of him here at Longbourn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late posting. 
> 
> There are a couple of terms and items in this chapter that might need explanation. 
> 
> "Abbess" was used in the early 1800's in much the same way we would use "Madam." She would be the female head of a brothel, a person who procured others for purposes of illicit sex. While certainly a euphamism, it was certainly in common use. Less common was the use of the word "nunnery" to refer to a house of ill repute. 
> 
> Mr. Bennet refers to Dr. Price as a "godly, righteous, and sober" man. Any Anglican or Episcopalian will recognize this as a direct steal from the Book of Common Prayer. It is taken from the General Confession and would have been recited by both Mr. Bennet and Lady Catherine just about every time they were in church. Mr. Bennet can hardly be blamed for wanting to imply that his parson is a better man than her parson.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 18

By some unspoken agreement, everyone, including Sergeant Parker, decided to allow the lovers some quiet time together on the day after Elizabeth's rescue. Darcy was awakened by the little boys, and he decided to take advantage of the early hour to send instructions to Mr. Winters regarding the license and the church. He had other instructions as well, and he sent those to his own house.

The air was cool with the onset of autumn, and, even in London, the skies were an unbroken blue. The house boasted a large garden, hemmed in on three sides by the walls of neighboring houses and shielded from the street by a wall of brick and wrought iron. A cherry tree there was beginning to bend down with ripe fruit, and Mrs. Gardiner chased the pair out after breakfast with a basket and instructions to fill it.

Elizabeth, gowned in soft, deep blue, and wearing an ordinary apron from the kitchen, was at first overjoyed to be outdoors. She laughed up at Darcy and, taking him by the hand, led him to a comfortable bench hidden from the house. "This has been my favorite spot in this garden since I was a little girl." They sat together on the bench, and he took her hand. "I once climbed that tree over there and had to be rescued by my uncle. I remember being very angry that he would not let me go higher." 

"So you were as bold a little girl as you are now, my Elizabeth."

Elizabeth sat very still for a long moment before continuing. "That little girl seems lost in the past. I do not believe I shall ever be bold again. I--" She broke off, unable to speak, and her eyes filled with tears which soon grew into a storm of weeping. Darcy silently gathered her into his arms as he would a small child, patting her back as though she were an infant in need of soothing. He thought her heart might break with weeping, and break his own along with it. Finally, when it seemed she had exhausted herself, she hid her face in his shoulder and the tears subsided with a gasp.

"You are my brave Elizabeth," said Darcy softly, "And you always will be. You said it yourself last night. You have passed through the lions' den." Elizabeth wept again, more bitterly, and he began to rock her back and forth, whispering, "You are safe. I am here. I will always be here, and I will always keep you safe."

When next she raised her head, she stood up quickly, and Darcy thought she seemed angry. She dried her tears on a corner of her apron, drew a breath, and began. "We can never marry, Mr. Darcy."

Wisely, he said nothing.

"I must face the facts. I am ruined. Wickham had the right of it last night when he called me a tarnished rose. I was found in a--in a--"

Darcy's heart turned over. In her innocence, she had no words for the place where she had been held prisoner. "In a house of ill fame, Elizabeth," he said quietly.

"In a house of ill fame. I was there for three days. I was found and rescued--taken out of there--in a gown that barely covered me. They were planning to sell me to--to the man who would pay the best price for me. And despite what Wickham has said, I did ride for three hours in a closed carriage with--with some man or other. The fact that I was blindfolded and tied hand and foot will be ignored by most people. Lady Catherine was right. What decent man would want to connect himself with such a family--with such a girl?"

"I would," he said. "And I believe myself to be a decent man. No man worthy of the name would abandon you after such an ordeal. The empty-headed will wag their tongues as much as they wish. The decent, thoughtful, honorable people will understand what happened. And believe me, Elizabeth. When the woman who said those words is brought to book for her crimes, any credit you have lost in the eyes of the world will be fully restored. You are not among the guilty here. Far from it. You are among those who have been wronged. And let us not forget that murder has been committed. An innocent man has lost his life."

At that, he found he could no longer remain seated. He stood and gathered her into his arms. He could feel himself beginning to tremble with a physical reaction to the horror they had just lived through. "My God, Elizabeth. I feared I had lost you. I would awaken at night, suddenly imagining you cold, lost, injured, abandoned." He turned up her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "Through it all, I felt some--some connection between us, between our spirits or our souls. It told me you were alive. It told me to continue without losing hope."

"What have I done to deserve such a man?" she whispered.

"You do not have to deserve me, Elizabeth. I am yours without conditions or reservations."

This time her tears fell more softly. "I was so afraid I would end up by not being yours," she said simply. "That was the worst of it. At first, they gave me laudanum, and I awoke in a dark cellar with rats and mice. I began trying to discover as much as I could by listening, by smelling, by using every sense but sight. Then that strange woman, Mrs. Oliver came, and I tried to get her to talk, but she would not. The next day, when she took me to the other house, I began to suspect what sort of place I was in. They let me have a bath, and they took away my clothes--oh, they gave me a wrapper, so I was decently covered. And that afternoon, they brought gown after gown and fitted them to me. And they were all perfectly useless to any decent woman. I asked for a book, but there were none. And the modiste sent me some needlework to occupy my time.

"But it was not until the next day, when I had my interview with Mrs. Younge, that I began to feel despair. She told me then that several gentlemen would be watching me with--with an eye toward a sort of business relationship. She told me that this would be to my advantage. And then she told me that I would be charged for my room, board, clothes, and maid." Here Elizabeth laughed, but it was a laugh bordering on hysteria. "Imagine, I already owed her eight hundred pounds!" She drew in a breath on a great, gasping sob before continuing, and when she spoke, she whispered into his shirtfront. “But, oh, that was not the worst of it. She told me that if I did not do exactly what I was told, I would be beaten with a whip--that there are men who like to do that. They enjoy it!” She looked up at him. “I did not know such people existed, Fitzwilliam! And she laughed as she told me. When I began to dress last night, I felt it was the day of my execution.”

“Of course you did not know, my dearest. You should not have to know those things.” Darcy seated them again, laid her head on his shoulder, and held her as she wept yet again. This time, the tears began to ebb naturally. While they might return--again and again--for now she felt more able to go on. The two sat without moving for many minutes as Elizabeth allowed herself to be soothed by the sounds of his breathing and his heartbeat. She felt almost as if she might fall asleep and began to think back over their joyous reunion the night before, the comfort of his arms. the joy on her uncle's face, even the unexpected gallantry of Mr. Hurst and the sheer genius of the man they referred to as Sergeant Parker. She drew a shuddering breath and looked up to see Darcy anxiously watching her face. She reached up and touched his cheek and gave him a shy smile. 

"Elizabeth, Do you remember a conversation we had at Netherfield while your sister Jane was ill? You asserted that poetry was highly efficacious at driving away love. I argued that poetry was the food of love. You advanced the idea that it would nourish only a fine, stout, healthy love." He looked down at her. "Elizabeth, we have a fine, stout, healthy love, and everything will nourish it. It will not be starved by idle gossip."

She leaned over and kissed him shyly, and he said, "Marry me tomorrow, dearest. Let me have you safe in my house and in my arms. I never want to be parted from you again. And I want God and the world to know it." 

"I will marry you tomorrow or any day you choose," replied Elizabeth.

Elizabeth took his hand and kissed it, and he smiled down at her. "Now, we should see to our task before Mrs. Gardiner comes out to pick the cherries herself." 

The lower branches of the tree were filled with luscious, perfectly ripe fruits, and they had filled the basket before they knew it.

"We should take this to your aunt," said Darcy, hoisting it to his shoulder.

"I cannot bring myself to go in just yet," replied Elizabeth. "The kitchen steps are there, at the back corner of the house. Go down two steps, and there will be someone in the kitchen to take the basket. I will be able to see you almost the whole time."

"You will feel safe? There are two men outside the wall, and one at the gate. I will be back immediately."

"Perfectly safe." Elizabeth stood waiting beside the tree. Her eye was attracted to a stout, sturdy limb extending from the trunk just above her head, well concealed by other, overhanging limbs. She tested it carefully and was seated upon it mere moments later. She used her time to fill her apron pocket with unripe fruit. Then she began sampling the ripe fruit, which was delicious. In short order, juice covered her lips, ran down her chin, and made her hands sticky. 

She did not have long to wait. Darcy emerged from the kitchen showing all the satisfaction of a job well done. A small green missile flew past his ear. The next found its mark, dealing a stinging slap to his cheek, while a third went wide. "Death from above," he mused just loudly enough to be heard. But he had been watching carefully. He strolled innocently through the garden, being struck several times, and stood just beyond the offending limb. A hail of unripe cherries rained around him, most simply dropped, some aimed and thrown with varying degrees of accuracy. A few hit home and stung like tiny wasps. 

Alas, she had reckoned without his speed, developed through years of fencing practice and more recent boxing lessons with "Gentleman" Jackson. Before she was aware he had been looking at her, a strong arm snaked out and seized her wrist, and she was suddenly in his arms. "There is just one difficulty, Elizabeth," he said in a low voice against her ear. "You throw underhanded. Practice your overhand shot, and you will improve your aim." He moved quickly back into the concealing depths of the tree as she shook with laughter, and imprisoned her body between his own and the strong trunk. He could feel the sticky fruit juice on her hands, and he licked them clean, leaving kisses in his wake and taking each finger into his mouth, one by one. Her laughter died away as he moved on to her face, lapping at the sweetness until his mouth found hers. 

Elizabeth astonished him by jumping up into his arms, not even waiting to be sure he would catch her. As his arms went around her, she took his face in her hands and began to kiss him, pressing her soft lips gently against his at first, then becoming fiercely demanding as she felt him respond. She tasted of sweet cherries, and he wanted the kiss to go on forever, but when he felt her gasp and press herself more closely against him, he knew that he must put an end to it. He set her down gently and smoothed the hair away from her face. "When we are married, dearest Elizabeth, there will be no more barriers between us." He placed her arm in his, and they walked slowly back to sit on the bench.

"I am very glad to see that my bold Elizabeth has returned," he said with a smile.

"You may live to regret those words. My young life was a continuous crisis of skinned knees, bruises, muddy boots, and dirty hems. On one occasion at home I did fall from a tree, and I had the wind quite knocked out of me. My mother said that she hoped and prayed I would grow up and have a little girl just like myself."

"I quite agree with her. It is my hope as well." Darcy, remembering her bright eyes and dirty petticoats on the morning of her arrival at Netherfield, could not help but remember also that those eyes had placed him utterly in her power--a place where he still resided quite happily. He pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her, gently at first, then with increasing hunger as his own lips coaxed hers to open to him. She threw her arms around him to pull him closer, as her mouth allowed him to drink deeply. He heard her whisper "I love you" between their lips and gave himself up to her. When he came to himself, he laid his cheek on her soft hair. "We must go in," he said reluctantly.

They stood together and went into the house. When they entered, they found Mrs. Gardiner inspecting a pile of bandboxes. "These just arrived for you, dearest," she said to Elizabeth. "The little girls will be disappointed, but I have moved you into the spare room so you will have space to unpack."

"I am mystified, Aunt. I brought nothing with me, not even a comb." 

"I will own up to it, Elizabeth," added Darcy. "I realized your predicament and wrote to Mrs. Jenkins early this morning. She has been to the dressmaker favored by Georgiana, and together they have selected several gowns and pelisses for you based on the measurements of the gown you are wearing today. Mrs. Jenkins makes those gowns for her niece, so that part was not difficult. I did my best to convey to her the style and colors you favor, so if those are wrong, I bear the guilt. Mrs. Jenkins has also procured other articles of clothing and necessities. The only articles we were not able to purchase were a bonnet and shoes." 

"I know not how to thank you, Fitzwilliam," said Elizabeth with a smile. "You have seen to every detail of my comfort." 

"Lizzie,” said her aunt. “After you have unpacked, let us select a bonnet from among my own. I will make my sewing-basket available to you, and you may trim it as you please. Surely you have some of Lydia's talent for renewing bonnets."

"I am afraid she got the lion's share, Aunt. But that is very kind, and I will work on it as soon as I have unpacked. I shall be quite respectable." 

As the footman began carrying the boxes upstairs, Mrs. Gardiner continued. "There are a number of other letters and parcels here for both of you," she said. "Mr. Darcy, this parcel and these notes were delivered for you. And, Lizzie, this parcel came for you." 

Darcy pocketed his parcel, but Lizzy tore into hers with great interest. "It includes a note from Sergeant Parker," she began. "He writes, 'This was recovered today from the house in Audley Street. I have been told that it is yours.'" She opened the small box to reveal a simple cross pendant set with topazes. "I never thought I would see it again," she went on quietly, fastening it about her neck. "I wonder who gave it to him. Ruth knew about it."

Darcy had been scanning his letters, one of which was also from Parker. "Sergeant Parker writes that the club in Audley Street is closed, Wickham and Mrs. Younge have fled, and fifteen young women, together with the servants, remain in the larger house. He has enlisted the aid of Mrs. Oliver to supervise them, and he has told them that they are free to leave at any time but that the house will henceforth be a decent, orderly place. None of them has elected to go. The windows are unsealed, and he writes that there is an abundant supply of food and other necessities. Some decisions will have to be made."

"Sergeant Parker was here himself a short time ago," said Mrs. Gardiner. "I invited him to dine with us. My husband suggested inviting Mr. Hurst as well. He felt you might all have need of an opportunity for discussion."

"Thank you. Would you ladies do me the honor of joining me in the sitting room for a few minutes before you go upstairs? There are some items that require our attention." When they were all seated, he took out one of his letters. "This is from Mr. Winters, my attorney. He has forwarded the license secured for us this morning. And he has been in touch with the church. The marriage can take place tomorrow morning at eleven." He paused and looked intently at Elizabeth. "That is, if you wish it, Elizabeth. All must be arranged according to your wishes."

She smiled at him, looking very much like the familiar, happy Elizabeth. "I do wish it, Fitzwilliam. I wish it with all my heart."

Mrs. Gardiner smiled her sweet smile and took each of them by the hand. "I will confess I had my suspicions, my dears. My husband told me this morning we might expect this news. Who will you invite?"

Darcy and Elizabeth looked at one another. "I have to say, Aunt, that my guest list will consist of you and my uncle, and the children. I hope that my uncle will give me in marriage and that you will be my witness. Perhaps the girls will be bridesmaids."

Darcy smiled. "I am in much the same situation. None of my family is in town at the moment. I shall invite Hurst and Parker, and Mr. Winters has agreed to attend. He and my father were at school together, and he is an old friend. We will have a wedding-breakfast after the ceremony at my house--our house, if that suits you, Elizabeth." 

"I think it will be lovely. And now I have further incentive to trim a bonnet."

Darcy turned to Mrs. Gardiner. "I must write several letters, Mrs Gardiner. Is there a convenient place for me to do that?"

"My writing-desk is in the corner, Mr. Darcy. Please make use of it at any time while you are with us. You should find everything you require in terms of paper, ink, seals, and the like." 

"I thank you."

He turned to his letters while Elizabeth and her aunt went upstairs to unpack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the special license of Mrs. Bennet's dreams, but a regular license enabling them to be married at Darcy's parish church.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 19

Elizabeth was awakened very early by two laughing little girls still clad in their white nightgowns. They were followed by their mother, who carried a cup of chocolate and greeted her with a smile and the words, "Happy is the bride the sun shines on, Lizzie." She opened the curtains and chased the girls back to their room to get dressed before seating herself in a chair beside the bed.

"Dearest Lizzie," she began. "I know how difficult it will be not to have your parents and sisters with you on the happiest day of your life. I do believe this arrangement will be for the best. Mr. Darcy will keep you safe, and that will ensure a happy outcome for you and you both. 

Do not allow anything you have heard or seen, especially this week, to make you fearful of marriage. What happens in those places is not love. With in your own marriage, you will love and be loved. I believe you were born to be happy, Lizzie, and I also believe that Mr. Darcy wants nothing more than to make you happy. Talk with him, confide in him, trust in him, and that will ensure you are both happy. If you need me, I am always here." She stood and embraced Elizabeth, kissed the top of her head, and continued. "Now, throw on your old gown and hurry downstairs. We want to gather flowers for your nosegays while it is still cool and fresh in the garden!"

"Thank you, Aunt. No one could have a better aunt or a better friend. You have been so kind."

"Make haste."

A short time later, Darcy, dressing himself without the assistance of his valet, looked down from his window into the garden, where he saw Elizabeth and her cousins. Her hair was down, and the little girls had made her a crown of Michaelmas daisies, and he knew he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Breakfast, served early, was a noisy and chaotic affair. Such cheerful chaos was normal in the Gardiner family, where adults and children sat down together for the first meal of the day. Elizabeth, still wearing her crown of daisies, was feeding the youngest boy from her own plate and encouraging him to take sips of his milk. Darcy could suddenly picture her as a mother in her own right--the mother of their children--and thought family breakfasts might be a fine idea. She favored him with such a radiant smile that he lost his breath.

The children were soon taken off by their nurse, leaving the adults a few quiet minutes to linger over their coffee and discuss the day. "Sergeant Parker will be here at a quarter past ten, and he will bring two men with him to serve as your footmen," said Darcy to Mr. Gardiner. "You and your family and Elizabeth will ride in your carriage as we agreed. I see no reason why you should not have it open. One of my carriages will stop for Mr. Hurst and bring him here, and he will arrive at about the same time. I will ride with him, and Mr. Winters will come directly from his office." He paused. "All of this does not begin to express my gratitude for your assistance and your support during this--this nightmare. It has extended even to your opening your home to me. I will never be able to thank you, but I am fortunate indeed to be regarded as a part of your family."

"Mr. Darcy, how could we do otherwise for the man who loves our Lizzie so dearly?" replied Mr. Gardiner. "Let us make this a day of joy and celebration!"

He stood, and the two men shook hands, and Mrs. Gardiner said, "Fifteen minutes and then come upstairs, Lizzie. That should allow you ample time to dress."

Left alone, Elizabeth and Darcy clasped hands and walked together out to the garden. When they reached Elizabeth's favorite bench, he wrapped his hands in the tresses of her hair and kissed her. "It is so beautiful, he murmured. "Can you not wear it this way to the wedding?"

Elizabeth returned his kiss and smiled up at him with her impish smile. "It might cause a few tongues to wag, Mr. Darcy," she replied. "But I will make a bargain with you. I will wear it this way whenever we are alone. Will that do?"

"It will be better," he replied, kissing her again. Then he began searching his pockets until he drew out a small, wrapped parcel, which he handed her. "I know you treasure your confirmation cross, Elizabeth. But would you do me the honor of wearing this today? Most of my mother's jewelry is Georgiana's, but some pieces were bequeathed to me, to give to my bride. This was always one of my favorites, and it is simple enough for the daytime."

Elizabeth gasped as she untied the parcel and opened it. The leather box held a gold heart-shaped pendant with inset amethyst, surrounded by an intricate design of leaves, flowers, and vines. "So beautiful," she said. "I will treasure it always, until the day when God willing, our son will give it to his bride. Thank you for entrusting it to me." She hugged him briefly, then went on, "Please, help me to put it on."

In moments it was securely clasped about her neck. Darcy kissed her, offered her his arm, and walked back with her to the house. When they reached the side door, he kissed her again and smiled down at her. "Well, Miss Bennet, shall I see you at church?"

"I will meet you at the altar, Mr. Darcy."

"I will be waiting for you."

In later years, neither Elizabeth nor Darcy would be able to recall much of the service itself. Elizabeth remembered his eyes alight when he first caught sight of her and the warmth and strength of his hand as it clasped hers, slipping on the ring that she would wear for the rest of her life. Darcy remembered her smile as she walked toward him, her eyes fixed only on his. He remembered the clarity of her voice as she made the responses. There was a flurry of good wishes as they signed the register, and the entire party made its way back to Brook Street.

The house was graced by a walled garden, and the doors leading to it from the ground floor sitting-room had been thrown open. The household staff had lined up in the center hallway ready to greet Mr. Darcy and his bride. The couple stood and received the congratulations of each one. A celebration, including punch, awaited the staff in their dining-room later in the evening.

The dining-room had been set up so that the new Mr. and Mrs. Darcy sat at the center of one side of the table surrounded by their friends and family. Although they knew that there were still troubles to address, all thought of care was laid aside. Sergeant Parker had tales to relate of the illustrious and dashing Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Winters had a fund of stories to relate about the young Darcy and promised Mrs. Darcy that, should she ever need to blackmail her husband, Mr. Winters would be ready with the evidence. Even Mr. Hurst rose to the occasion when the champagne was poured, with an elegant toast to the new bride and groom. Darcy was well known in town for the excellence of his table and his cellar, but his French chef had kept this meal somewhat simpler until he had a better understanding of the new Mrs. Darcy's tastes.

After their meal, everyone sought the garden, where cake and fruits were laid out. Mrs. Jenkins delighted the two small bridesmaids with elegant little boxes, each with a slice of wedding cake to be taken home and slipped under their pillows, bringing dreams of their future bridegrooms. There were sweetmeats and comfits for all of the children. The talk turned to what life would be like when the miscreants had finally been brought to justice.

"We must all celebrate at Pemberley," said Darcy. "It seems only fitting. Once this is behind us, we should gather our families there and enjoy one another's company."

"How wonderful that will be," added Elizabeth. "Though this is wonderful enough."

A wail from the youngest Gardiner boy brought Mrs. Gardiner to her feet, and it was soon apparent that children's naps did not wait even for special occasions. Sergeant Parker stood, too, in order to arrange for the carriages, and with kisses for the bride and handshakes for the groom, the guests were soon their way.

When they were alone, Darcy smiled down at his bride and said, "Well, Mrs. Darcy?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy?"

"It is only half-past three. If we send the servants away now, it will cause talk."

"Heaven knows, the last thing we wish to do is to cause talk. Especially now that we are married, Mr. Darcy."

"I suggest a brief tour of your home, Mrs. Darcy. I will acquaint you with the most important rooms. Certainly Mrs. Jenkins will wish to show you around later this week. She knows what is in all the closets. And you need to become better acquainted with Thompson, the butler, who knows everything else."

"It is a fine idea, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps when we have completed our tour, we might repair to the garden for some--for some conversation." Elizabeth could no longer hide her smile.

"Conversation on refined subjects is always of benefit to those--participating," he replied, drawing her arm through his.

In fact, he did manage to show her several rooms on the ground and first floors including the music-room and a beautifully proportioned little sitting room that opened to the garden. "I have pictured you in this room," Darcy said. If it is to your liking, it might be your own sitting-room. You will need a place to write your letters and so forth. Of course we would redecorate it to your taste." 

"It is a beautiful room, Fitzwilliam. I love the light, and I especially like that it opens to the garden."

"The library where I work also opens to the garden," he replied.

The first floor consisted of a succession of stately drawing-rooms, saloons, and parlors. Elizabeth could appreciate the esthetic tastes of the person who had decorated them; they were elegant and refined without being ostentatious. She could easily picture herself entertaining in these rooms. They crossed the wide center hall, passed down another hall, and Darcy said, "My parents, who first built and decorated this house, never liked to be parted from each other. What was my father's chamber is now mine, and I have had your things placed in my mother's former room, which adjoins it. It has been redecorated since her death, but of course you will want to decorate it to your own liking."

He opened a door and showed Elizabeth into a large, airy room decorated simply with hangings of sea-green silk. Two windows looked down into what she realized was an extension of the garden on the other side of the house. She exclaimed over the cushioned window seat before turning to a comfortable sitting area in front of the fireplace. "A beautiful room, Fitzwilliam! I can imagine myself being quite comfortable here. And of course, I love the window seat!"

Darcy smiled and opened a door. "And here is your dressing-room," he said. "I remember sitting here often with my mother as a child." The room was comfortable and convenient, and Elizabeth could see her bonnet and gloves already waiting to be stored in the large wardrobe with its many drawers.

Darcy smiled and extended his hand, saying, "Come this way." They passed back through the bedchamber, and he opened a door near the fireplace. Standing aside, he said, "This is my room." 

As she entered, Elizabeth observed that the two rooms mirrored each other in size and in the arrangement of their furniture. The hangings here were of a deep red, and the furniture was dark, but the somber colors were relieved by simple white paint on the walls. Two comfortable wing chairs were drawn up before the fireplace, one of which showed more signs of wear and use than the other. Darcy pointed to a door at the other side. "My dressing-room is in there," he said simply.

Elizabeth smiled shyly. She could feel a blush stealing up her cheeks, a fact that was not lost on Darcy. "I like that we shall be neighbors. I will not be afraid with you nearby. My parents’ rooms are as far apart as they can be and remain in the same house."

“My parents slept together in this room when they were here, or in my father’s room at Pemberley. They did not like to be apart.” He folded her into his arms. “We can do that as well, dearest. If that is what you wish to do.” 

“I would like that very much,” she replied. “Because it is not my parents’ habit, I did not know it was ever done. I will be safe with you.” 

"Elizabeth," he began. "You have been through an ordeal. Your shock and terror have been unimaginable. You have wept in my arms until I feared both our hearts would break. If you would rather--if you would rather wait, I will wait for you as long as is necessary. I would cut my arm off rather than cause you any more fear or shock or pain. You must believe me."

Elizabeth rested her head on his chest, soothed as she always was by his heartbeat. "Dearest Fitzwilliam, it was dreadful. I suspect I may weep again, perhaps many weeks or months from now. But those people are about decay and poison and ruin. Our love--your love for me and mine for you--is about mutual joy and comfort and life itself. I am not afraid of you. I want this, and I want to be yours." Now, you must help me take off this precious necklace and put it somewhere safe.." He saw her smile return and was satisfied.

Darcy folded her in his arms and bent down to kiss her, but after a moment, she placed her finger across his lips. "Wait! I am forgetting our bargain. A promise is a promise after all." She stood by the table next to his wing chair and began removing the pins from her hair, placing them carefully on the table. "I need to save these until I can get more," she said. When the last pin was out, she shook her head, and the whole length of her hair tumbled down about her shoulders and down her back. "Is that better?"

"It is much better," he whispered. Seating himself in the armchair, he pulled her onto his lap and said, "Now, come and kiss me the way you did yesterday as we stood beneath the tree," giving himself up to her soft, demanding caresses as they both lay hidden beneath the dark curtain of her hair.

Elizabeth, feeling the evidence of his ardent desire for the first time, wanted only to turn and face him. She was thwarted in this by the quantity and thickness of the layers of clothing that stood between them. Gown and petticoats, breeches, shirt, waistcoat, coat, and neckcloth--all of these--not to mention shoes and stockings--seemed to stand between her and what she thought she wanted, which was to feel his flesh against her own.

Darcy sensed her difficulty, but before he could speak, they heard the clock on the mantelpiece chime six. He stood them both up, smoothed her hair back and kissed her feverish cheek before saying, "Madam, I must say that we are both overdressed for this occasion. However, we are faced with a choice. He held up his first finger, which she immediately kissed and tried to take into her mouth. "Do not interrupt me whilst I am enumerating our choices, or we will find ourselves left with only one choice," he went on. "I shall continue. Firstly, we may straighten our clothes, effect repairs to our--ahh--our hair, and go down to the dining room for supper. After supper, we may return here, enter our respective dressing-rooms, ring for maid and valet, and prepare for bed. This would be the course pursued by civilized men and women.

"I can only conjecture that your second choice would be pursued by uncivilized men and women," said Elizabeth, showing the dimples in her cheeks. "I should like to hear it nevertheless."

"Well then. The second course of action would be simply to stay here without benefit of maid or valet and see what happens." He smiled a rare, happy smile. "Were we to find ourselves in danger of starvation later, we would be forced to put on nightclothes and steal down to the kitchen under cover of darkness, there to forage for our food like savages. I will say, in favor of this second choice, that there is little danger of discovery. The staff will have enjoyed enough good rum punch to put them all into a sound sleep."

"The second course of action has much in its favor," returned Elizabeth. "I find the part about foraging for our food like savages to be especially appealing. Are you an experienced forager, sir?"

"I've had my moments."

"Very well then." She turned and walked into his arms, brazenly taking hold of the end of his neckcloth and tugging gently. "I would like to know how to get rid of this without turning it into a hangman's noose."

"My information is always available to you," he replied, taking her hand. "Simply take it here and pull gently." The knot disintegrated. "As you see, it is not difficult."

She unbuttoned his shirt, kissing that part of his neck that was exposed to her view. "You can have no idea of the effect you have on young ladies when you--when you suddenly appear before them in your shirtsleeves after having gone for a swim, Mr. Darcy. I am not certain that I have completely recovered." She began to kiss that part of his neck that she could reach and to caress that part which she could not reach. “And are you never seen without your coat and waistcoat?” she finally said. 

The offending garments were gone in a moment, and she unfastened the buttons of his shirt. Darcy looked down at her, ardent desire banked in his eyes, and said quietly, “One of us is wearing too many clothes.” He reached behind her and unfastened her gown, which slipped to the floor. Then he carried her back to the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to everyone for the length of time it took me to get through this chapter! It certainly was fun to write. I hope to re-capture my former, regular schedule over the weekend.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 20

The day started well enough for Lady Catherine. Mr Collins waited on her immediately after Morning Prayer on the day following his return from Longbourn. She received him in the small summer breakfast parlor, and although she invited him to sit, she did not offer him any breakfast. 

"What of your visit to the Bennets" she began. "Were they surprised?"

"I saw only Mr. Bennet. Mrs. Bennet is ill and does not leave her room. I did meet Sir Henry Martin, Baronet, who is the local magistrate. He, too, was condoling with Mr. Bennet."

"And what of Bennet’s reaction?"

"He was grieved--shocked--why, I believe he hid his face in his handkerchief and wept. Nevertheless, I impressed both Mr. Bennet and Sir Henry with your ladyship's true Christian virtue, gracious condescension, and high moral character in sending me to attend the Bennets in your own carriage. I also acquainted Mr. Bennet with your ladyship's offer to find posts as maids for the other daughters. Such Christian charity caused Mr. Bennet to employ his handkerchief again.

"And the information that Elizabeth Bennet had thrown herself into the arms of Viscount __?" By now, thought Lady Catherine, she should be infected with the pox.

"A complete shock, I assure you. He wished to know the sources of your information, and I assured him that they were of the very highest calibre."

Lady Catherine poured herself a cup of coffee as she silently congratulated herself on her success. "Good day, Mr. Collins. I feel sure you will wish to set about tending your gardens again."

Collins expressed his readiness to support her ladyship in any way he could. When she waved an impatient hand in his direction, he bowed himself out of the room. 

Lady Catherine's satisfaction was short-lived, for tea-time brought not one, but two express letters. The first, from Longbourn, had been written the evening before. Under the guise of extending his thanks, the upstart Bennet had the temerity to criticize Collins--and through Collins, herself--for spreading untimely gossip. According to his information, Elizabeth Bennet had walked out of the club on the arm of a family friend who knew she was being held there against her will. Worse, Bennet had the unmitigated gall to hint that his country bumpkin of a parson was a better man than hers. Although he must be made to pay, she decided that Bennet was harmless. She had more important business to attend to, and he could wait his turn.

She next turned her thoughts to that idiot Collins. Should he be called in to account for his words? Was he telling her the truth? Should she give herself the pleasure of interrogating him until he squirmed? She decided that there was no good in crying over spilt milk. Collins, the pompous ass, obviously had his own rosy view of the world in which she was queen and he her devoted and godly subject. She could save the satisfaction of dealing with him for later.

She poured herself a glass of port from Sir Lewis's dwindling supply and turned her attention to the next letter. The contents were shocking. It was from Mrs. Younge, and it confirmed every representation made by Bennet regarding his second daughter. Elizabeth Bennet had simply walked out of the club on the arm of a gentleman who was not well known to them, a Mr. Hurst, after announcing at the top of her voice that she was being held there against her will. No one had dared to stop her, and Hurst had escorted her around the corner and up Brook Street to Darcy's home. The Viscount, having been cheated of his prize, had taken his money and gone elsewhere. Mrs. Younge had little information about the club other than that it was closed and the authorities were investigating. She and Wickham were in hiding in Wickham's filthy rooms, and Mrs. Younge was understandably reluctant to go out. The girls living in the house were being cared for out of charity by persons unknown. Mrs. Younge and Wickham talked of fleeing the country. 

Lady Catherine's anger was violent, terrible to behold, only there was no one nearby to behold it. She hurled the heavy silver standish into the opposite wall, splattering black ink on the elaborate gilded woodwork and the silk wallpaper. When this did nothing to assuage her fury, she overturned and shattered first one, then the other, of her pair of priceless Chinese urns, scattering their contents of garden flowers and water on the Aubusson carpet and the brocade upholstery of the sofa that sat between them. The rotting stems emitted a stench of decay, and a corner of her mind made her think to dismiss the slattern responsible for cleaning the room.

She poured herself another glass of port and drank it off in several swallows. For the first time ever, small tendrils of fear curled around her insides like icy fingers. Even the port could not warm her. When she returned to refill her glass and found the decanter empty, she hurled it at the window, smashing two panes of glass. Evening was coming on, and when the footman announced the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Collins for dinner, she had him send them away. Then she sent for another decanter of port.

* * *

Sergeant Parker watched the Darcys' home from a discreet distance, sending up a prayer that the Almighty would shield the joyous occupants. The servants' feast had ended, and the entire house was quiet and dark. The house in Audley Street, still serving as residence for all those young women, was also quiet and dark. Parker ventured to light his pipe and was puffing it thoughtfully when one of his men approached him.

"It's Wickham, Sarge. We've lost him."

"Let me hear it, Jackson," said Parker with a sigh.

"He came out of his rooms about an hour ago. The woman is still in there, and we've seen her at the window several times. It's as though she's looking for him. He walked toward Covent Garden, and we followed him. He got into a hackney, and it appears he got out of it at some point where we could not follow. He's given us the slip."

Parker smoked meditatively for a few moments before answering. "More than likely, he's bound for Meryton. It would be too much to hope for that he's leaving the country, and it's doubtful he'd put his head in the noose by going to Bath. We're already watching Longbourn and Rosings. Get a man up to Longbourn on a fast horse with orders to assist as needed and report back here."

Parker refilled his pipe and resumed his careful watch.

* * *

Elizabeth woke at some time after midnight. For just a moment, she wondered where she was. Then she felt Fitzwilliam's lean body curled around hers and felt his warm breath on her shoulder. She lay still, remembering the astonishing pleasures they had experienced only a few hours before, and feeling very much cherished and adored. Then her stomach gave a distinct and most unladylike grumble. Her face grew warm with embarrassment, and she felt his body shake with laughter against hers.

"I suppose I had best take you away and feed you," he said against her ear. "Are you ready to learn to forage for your food like a savage?"

"I am ready. But if you continue to tickle my ear like that, we may yet starve, Mr. Darcy."

"There is no rest for the weary," he replied, getting out of bed and lighting the bedside candle.

Darcy walked across the room to his dressing-room, lighting another candle or two. Elizabeth, who had no idea of where her nightgowns or wrappers had been stored, looked vainly through her pile of clothes for her chemise. Not finding it, she settled on his shirt, which was still thrown across the arm of the chair. It hung down past her knees, although she knew that the fine muslin would be quite revealing. Then she found her shoes.

Darcy, returning in his dressing gown, gave her a look that was frankly appreciative. Then, finger to his lips, he led her down the hall to a back stairway and down two pairs of stairs to the vast kitchen. He smiled when he caught sight of the kitchen table. "The chef has been taking care of us." He pointed to two fine plates, two sets of silverware, and two linen napkins. A bottle of wine and two glasses stood nearby, and a snowy cloth covered a platter of small savory tarts, a loaf of new bread, cheese, and cold beef. A plate of fresh fruit stood nearby with another plate of small cakes.

"This is savage indeed," said Elizabeth. "And the foraging has been quite taxing. I believe I could force myself to eat something."

They fed each other bites of savory tart and sips of wine, licking the crumbs from each other's fingers. Then Darcy stood and carved slices of beef with great expertise, and Elizabeth made sandwiches. She presented her husband his sandwich with a flourish and, after taking a bite, he pronounced it the best sandwich he had ever eaten and proceeded to devour it, washing it down with sips of wine. "If this were Pemberley," he observed, "we would have good homebrewed English ale. I keep a French chef here to impress my friends, but at Pemberley we employ a proper English cook."

"That is a good thing, because I know a great deal more about plain cooking than I do about the more elegant dishes." Elizabeth had also finished her sandwich. In fact, they had eaten up the entire meal.

"Our work here is at an end," said Darcy. "I suggest we return to our bed." They turned to the stairway. Ordinarily, a gentleman always preceded a lady up the stairs, both to light the way, if necessary, and to avoid any embarrassing glimpses of petticoats or ankles. Darcy stopped and handed Elizabeth the candle. "After you. Since you are wearing my shirt, I feel I should be allowed to develop a proper appreciation of the sight. And I do, indeed, appreciate it."

Laughing the entire way, Elizabeth ran up the stairs. Darcy followed, but he allowed her enough of a lead that he could enjoy the sight of his wife’s slender, well-turned ankles, beautiful legs, and those other beauties that were alternately concealed and revealed by the shirt. 

When they were back in their room, he took the candle from her and set it on the stand before discarding his dressing-gown. Then he turned to his wife, pulled the shirt off over her head, carried her to the bed, and made love to her until she cried out her pleasure.

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy slept until very late the next morning, and the servants left them alone.

* * *

Elizabeth's family at Longbourn was awake early the day after her wedding. Mr. Bennet had received her hastily written letter the evening before, and while everyone understood the need for the early marriage, they naturally regretted their inability to share in her joy. Jane had been inspired to suggest that they prepare a joint letter, with each family member adding a line or two, which their father would send by express. They could then write their own personal sentiments at their leisure. This idea met with universal approbation, and they gathered in the parlor after breakfast to create the missive. Even Mrs. Bennet, when the paper was carried upstairs to her, was able to write MY DEAR LIZZIE in a firm hand.

Once they had given their letter into their father's keeping, the sisters felt themselves to be somewhat at loose ends. "I do wish we could go outside," said Lydia. "It is so unfair to be kept indoors on such a lovely day."

"There is no reason why we should not all go," replied Jane. "Bring your book if you have one, or cut flowers with me, or take a turn about the lawn. We must all stay where Tim can see us. I will send for him now. Get what you need and come back here. We will stay about an hour."

Fifteen minutes later, they were all assembled. Mary had brought a book, Jane had a basket and cutting shears, and the two younger girls had decided to play quoits. They followed Tim outside, and he took up a post where he could see them all. Mary retired to a shady tree near where the younger girls played their game. Jane began to fill her basket with flowers taken from the beds in the middle of the yard.

* * *

He had not shaved for days. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his fine boots were filthy, and his body exuded the sour sweat of too much strong drink. His hands, with their dirty nails, shook as he grasped the knife. He looked out of his hiding place as the sisters gathered on the lawn under the watchful eye of one of the young country lads. He cursed his luck. As matters stood, the closest girl was the bookish sister--what was her name--the unattractive one with the spectacles and the flat bosom. Mary? That was it. Well, perhaps she would be grateful for his attentions.

The scene was peaceful as he watched for his opportunity. The quoits rang out, his prey attended to her book, and the eldest sister, Jane, called to the young man to come and assist her with some heavy branches. He moved quickly from his hiding place, put the knife to Mary's throat, and pulled her back into the thick brush adjoining the wilderness. "Don't say a word. Don't scream. I might even try to make this enjoyable for you," he said, caressing her throat with the blade. Mary's eyes were wide. She was terrified, but she watched for her chance. It came moments later when he attempted to tear the stuff of her bodice. The sturdy gingham did not yield, and with a curse, he attempted to use both hands while retaining possession of the knife.

An instant later, the weapon was in Mary's hands. She screamed as loudly as she could and aimed a slashing cut somewhere at his chest. It drew blood. Tim was at her side in mere seconds, and her assailant was on the ground, the dirty white shirt turning crimson. Jem, Mr. Bennet, and several of the men had come running at the sound of the scream. "Send for Constable," said Tim. "It's naught but a flesh wound, but another inch or two and she would have done for him."

"Send for Sir Henry as well," added Mr. Bennet.

"Wickham!" Lydia almost spat the word.

Mary maintained her self-possession, although she could taste the bile at the back of her throat. "Let us tell Mama that I screamed because I was terrified by the sight of a--of a dead badger in the garden," she said. "She must not know what happened." She turned to Jane. "I should like to lie down," she said. And for the first time in anyone’s memory, she wept on Jane’s shoulder as though her heart would break. Jane seated her on a bench and put her arms around her as the other two girls hovered nearby. 

Surprisingly, it was Lydia who spoke. “When you are ready to go in, Mary, I will have someone bring you warm water. You will feel ever so much better after you have washed. I know I did. And we will take that dress away and burn it so that you never have to see it again. Then, if you like, I will come and sit with you until you sleep. I promise to be quiet.” She paused and knitted her brow in thought. “Just think, Mary! You have given Wickham what he deserved. He will never hurt another girl, ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real notes for this chapter--just a thank-you to everyone for your patience and for the kind comments.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 21

When Elizabeth woke the next morning it was to the sound of the clock chiming ten. She knew instantly where she was, and she could feel the warmth of her husband's body sprawled next to hers. He was lying on his back, and his face looked very young, even with the shadow of his beard. She carefully raised the covers and eased herself out. 

"You should come back here and let me kiss you," he said sleepily. "Why get up when we can remain here?" 

Elizabeth returned to him, smiling. When he pulled her into an embrace, she placed her hand between them and said, "Why, Mr. Darcy! Is that for me?" 

"It might be, Mrs. Darcy. Shall we find out?" 

When at last they lay entwined, replete and contented, Elizabeth's stomach mortified her by growling again, most audibly. Darcy's laughter rumbled in his chest and shook them both. "What is this, Mrs. Darcy? Must I feed you again?" 

"Well, it has been nearly twelve hours, Mr. Darcy. If we are to continue our recent activities, it appears I must be fed. There is only one problem. If I go down to forage in the kitchen dressed as I was last night, I certainly will cause a scandal." 

He stood. "We must avoid talk and suspicion at all costs, Mrs. Darcy. Put on that shirt you pilfered from me last night, please, and wait for me here." He got into his dressing gown and rang for his valet, and when the discreet knock sounded at the door, he stepped into the hallway.

He returned in moments. "When the knock sounds again, we will go to your room, where our breakfast will have been set out on the small table there." He looked at her with a teasing grin. "I have ordered a large, nourishing breakfast. When we have seen to it that you are fed, you and I will part company. My valet will come to me, and one of the maids will come to you, and we will dress properly and go downstairs to greet the new day. Do you approve?"

"Most definitely," she replied, showing her dimples again. 

"Then come and kiss me one more time." A few moments later, he raised his head and looked down at her. "There is a problem with this shirt. On you, it reveals far more than it conceals. It is enough to incite me to riot." 

"Riot. Foraging savages. Uncivilized persons. Whatever is next, Mr. Darcy? Sedition? Gunpowder, treason and plot? Marriage to you will be very exciting." 

"You left out abduction and dubious residences for young ladies."

"Who would believe such tales?" 

After breakfast, Elizabeth went to her dressing-room. She was greeted by a smiling young woman named Jenny who bobbed a curtsey, wished Mrs. Darcy happy, and said, "Your bath is ready, ma'am." Elizabeth was soon soaking, comfortably hidden by a screen as she had always been at Longbourn. Jenny had a wrapper ready for her when she emerged, and they stood side by side considering the collection of day dresses. 

Elizabeth chose one in a russet-rose muslin very much like a gown she had at home, and she was soon seated at her mirror as Jenny brushed out her hair. The maid clucked at the number of tangles she found and worked them carefully out with a comb but said nothing about doing the hair up in a plait at night. She put her head to one side and paid close attention as Elizabeth described the simple style she preferred for the daytime, and before long, she was deftly styling Elizabeth's hair just as she liked it. 

Finally, Jenny went to a trinket-box that stood nearby and opened it. "Would you like to wear your topaz cross today, ma'am?" she asked, just as if the box were full of treasures. 

Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, thank you, Jenny" She paused for a moment. "If I ring again, will you be the person sent to assist me?"

Jenny smiled broadly, then grew serious. "I do not know, ma'am. I would be honored to serve you. A word with Mrs. Jenkins might help." 

"Do I have an evening-gown among all these lovely new things?" asked Elizabeth.

"Oh, yes. There are several very pretty ones." 

"Please select a gown for me to wear to dinner, Jenny. Have it ready at six."

"Certainly, Mrs. Darcy." 

There was a knock at the door. Darcy stood outside, and he and Elizabeth clasped hands and walked downstairs together. When they got to the library, he opened the door and smilingly stood aside for her to enter.  
"What a delightful breeze. Is it coming from the garden?" 

He turned her around and guided her to a small alcove where a French door stood open. "There is a similar door in your sitting-room, he said. "I have always enjoyed it. Come and sit down."

They sat comfortably, side by side on the sofa, and he kissed her gently before beginning. "We should be on our honeymoon, but this has been an extraordinary series of events. Let us spend as much time as we can together these first few days. I believe I know you well enough to be sure that you will want to learn as much as you can about the management of this house and of Pemberley, but go slowly for a while. Mrs. Jenkins will be a strong ally, and she has some appreciation for what has been happening.

"The announcement of our marriage is in this morning's newspapers, so there will soon be engagements and social correspondence. Let us go over those together until you are perfectly comfortable, dearest." He smiled and kissed her again, unable to resist. "I have some letters to write. Would you prefer to stay here and keep me company, or would you rather acquaint yourself with your own sitting-room?" 

"Of course I would rather stay here," she replied. "But there is something I would like to discuss with Mrs. Jenkins." 

"Let me show you the path to your sitting-room. Once you have spoken to Mrs. Jenkins, return here if you like, and we can write our letters together. I would also like to acquaint you with the books so you may begin to enjoy them." 

He ushered her out of the French doors onto a gravel path shaded on one side by the house and on the other by a tree. Under the tree, hidden from the house, stood an old stone bench, just large enough for two people. "This looks like more of the work of your parents," said Elizabeth with a smile. "Perhaps they met here when no one was looking." 

"I would not be surprised." 

Elizabeth's French doors were standing open, and they entered the sitting room together. "It is such a lovely room," Elizabeth sighed. "I will be very comfortable here." 

"There is a man standing guard outside the garden walls, dearest. You may have them open or closed, just as you wish."

"Open, please!"

"Then I will see you soon." With a last kiss, he turned and walked down the garden path.

Elizabeth sent for Mrs. Jenkins. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Darcy," said the woman with a smile and a curtsey. "I am so pleased that the gown fits you well." 

"It suits me perfectly. It is cut in the style I have always preferred." She pointed to the chairs by the fireplace and took one. "Please sit down, Mrs. Jenkins." 

Once they were seated, Elizabeth began. "I plan to take several days to rest, and then I will no doubt have a thousand questions for you. Mr. Darcy has assured me that you know what is in all the closets." 

"Indeed I do, ma'am, and I will be honored to acquaint you with as many of them as you please."

Elizabeth smiled. "There is only one item we need to discuss. I was delighted with Jenny, the young woman you sent to wait on me this morning. She is very congenial, and she showed an aptitude for her duties. In particular, she has a talent for dressing my hair--always a daunting task. I have asked her to return at six to lay my things out for dinner, and I wish to have her serve as my personal maid." 

"It is good of you to say so, ma'am. She seems to me to have a natural taste and discernment, and she is always acquainted with the latest fashion. I will inform her this afternoon." 

The two women stood. "Thank you, Mrs. Jennings. I shall look forward to our meetings."

Before she had the opportunity to look around, Darcy knocked and entered. His demeanor was serious, and his eyes communicated some emotion she could not fathom. "I am sorry to disturb you, Elizabeth. Sergeant Parker is here, and your presence is needed urgently."

She stood immediately and went with him out of the parlor and into the library. Sergeant Parker stood, his eyes troubled. "Mrs. Darcy," he said simply. 

The three sat, and no one said anything for a moment. Elizabeth finally began. "Perhaps you had better just tell me," she said. "Whatever it is, it cannot be any worse than what I am imagining." 

"First of all, everyone is well," said Darcy. "Your mother continues to improve, and they have received news of our wedding. There is a letter here for you from your mother and sisters." He paused, searching for the right words. "The night before last, Wickham eluded the guards we had posted around him. He made his way to Longbourn and hid himself on the grounds. Yesterday, your sisters left the house to take the air in the garden under the eye of one of the Hills. Wickham used a moment of distraction to attempt to--to assault your sister Mary at knifepoint." 

At Elizabeth's horrified gasp, he took her hand in his. "No, no. He did not succeed. Mary succeeded in taking the knife away from him. She dealt him a wound that mere inches away from his heart. Wickham has been apprehended and confined. Your sister, though understandably distressed, is completely unhurt, and I am told your mother is not aware of what has happened." 

"Mary," breathed Elizabeth. "What have my family and I ever done to deserve all of this?" Darcy squeezed her hand more tightly, and she could feel her wedding-ring. It comforted her. "Who is next?"

"Mrs. Darcy." Parker's eyes were still deeply troubled. "You have done nothing. You are innocent people who have attracted the notice of a woman who wields great power but who is not rational. It is not just your family she has attacked. She has succeeded in ruining many innocent lives. You already know of her injuries to the Olivers. We know of many more, but we may never know the full extent of her wickedness and depravity. 

He paused and glanced at Darcy, who nodded for him to continue, "In fact, it appears that she has also plotted to harm her closest family members. Although it is impossible to fathom her motivation for doing so, we have uncovered solid evidence that she was behind the attempted abduction of Miss Georgiana Darcy." 

Elizabeth gasped and looked at Darcy, whose face was grim. "But why?"

"We will probably never know," replied Darcy. "My suspicions are not yet well-formed." 

"Her efforts to injure Mr. Darcy through his friends and family members have all failed. She has been thwarted at every turn, and this is driving her to behave in ways that are ever more reckless. With the apprehension of George Wickham, we have temporarily broken her power. He functions as her right-hand man in committing these crimes. We must move quickly to ensure that she never regains it. If Colonel Fitzwilliam were here, he would say we must bring the fight to her. I believe we can defeat her and secure justice for all whom she has wronged."

Elizabeth managed a smile. "Well said, Sergeant Parker. I am a faithful soldier in your army, and I await your orders."

Darcy pressed her hand again. "That's my bold Elizabeth."

The discussion turned to the upcoming trial in Bath. "By now Sir Henry Martin's letter should have reached his colleagues in Bath," observed Darcy. "They already have the boy's descriptions of the two men as well as the information about the man's missing finger. I believe that the same two men abducted you, Elizabeth, and assaulted Miss Bingley and her footman. I will be interested to learn whether or not one of the men in Bath is also missing a finger. I also wonder when Wickham will be able to travel."

"Miss Mary Bennet caused only a flesh wound," replied Parker. "Although she came within an inch of striking him through the heart. I suspect the cut will already have begun to heal."

"That's our Mary," observed Elizabeth. "She is nothing if not thorough. What will happen to Wickham?"

Darcy's eyes grew troubled. "I can only envision the ultimate penalty for him, Elizabeth. Two men in his pay committed murder. Although it grieves me for the sake of his father and mine, I will do nothing to assist him." 

The afternoon was advancing, and Elizabeth rang the bell for tea. Once they had all been served, the talk turned to more general subjects--the weather, the harvest at Pemberley, and people in Derbyshire with whom Elizabeth was not acquainted. She thought she might excuse herself and return to her letters when the door opened and a familiar voice rang out. 

"Darcy! Here I am at last. And Miss Bennet! I must say I am thankful to see you safe and well. And here is my old friend Sergeant Parker. I am glad to see you all!" 

Colonel Fitzwilliam, looking somewhat weary but otherwise cheerful, embraced them all with his broad smile. 

"You are behind the times, Cousin. Miss Bennet is now Mrs. Darcy." Darcy took his wife's hand in his. 

"Really! That is wonderful news. A bit unexpected. I thought a wedding was planned for Michaelmas." Fitzwilliam kissed Elizabeth's cheek and shook his cousin's hand. "I hope you will both be very happy. Darcy, you are a lucky man indeed." 

Once they were all seated, he continued. "I have come to beg a bed for two nights. My father will not travel on Sunday, but he will be here by mid-day Monday. They are preparing the house in town for his arrival, and I will get no peace there." 

"Your father is coming? Of course your usual rooms are always at your disposal."

"I stopped at home for a day before continuing on to London," replied Fitzwilliam with a brief glance at Sergeant Parker.

"Parker has my complete confidence in this. In fact, he has developed most of the information that has enabled us to progress as far and as fast as we have."

"I told you he would be a good man to have on your side. I felt your letter was alarming enough that my father should be acquainted with it. I suspected he would come down on our side, and it turns out I was right. My father, who is the youngest of the three, has been troubled since childhood by my aunt's mendacity, selfishness, and cruelty. So was your mother. Their tender years were apparently made miserable by her lying, her vicious temper, and her physical cruelty. Why, she forced your mother into a heavy linen chest and closed the lid. It was only by a miracle that she did not smother. She also lit the curtains on fire in the room where my father lay in his cradle. It was far more than the usual jealousies and squabbles of brothers and sisters."

"Such depraved behavior in a child does not bode well for its later development," said Darcy. "Did you know all of this before?"

"No. I spent the day closeted with my father in his library and told him everything. He in turn acquainted me with those distressing details of their childhood. He also related the contents of a letter he had received from her shortly after your engagement was announced. As I recall, he referred to it as nonsensical. She first criticized the Bennet family. Then she detailed the entire trumped-up engagement between yourself and Anne, a tale my father knows to be false. And she ended by referring to Miss Lydia Bennet's 'infamous elopement,' which we all know never happened. She ended by begging my father in the strongest possible terms to assist her in putting a stop to the marriage. My father wrote back and told her plainly that as far as he knew you were of age and might marry whom you pleased."

"I received a similar, less strongly worded letter," replied Darcy. "I chose to ignore it." 

"My father also described some of his suspicions concerning Rosings."

"Rosings? But that is the property of the de Bourgh's." 

"Precisely. Anne is now twenty-six. She should have inherited her father's fortune at twenty-five, over a year ago. My father believes my aunt has prevented that and is keeping the estate for her own benefit. It is a grievous offense--a crime. He intends to investigate those circumstances, and he will see his attorney and his man of business on Tuesday. He stands ready to lend you any assistance and to do what he can to bring justice to her victims. Including her own child, Anne." 

"You certainly have given us a great deal to think about," replied Darcy. 

Colonel Fitzwilliam stood and begged to be excused to settle into his rooms, and Sergeant Parker stood to take his leave. He and Fitzwilliam shook hands, and Fitzwilliam said, "Let us sit down over cigars and port, Sergeant. I will acquaint you with the best and the latest Army gossip, and you will acquaint me with all that is going on here." 

"I will enjoy that, sir," replied Parker with a rare smile.

* * *

_She was seated in the small summer breakfast parlor with her daughter Anne when the footman brought the London papers. The announcement of Darcy's marriage was a stunning blow. With Wickham unaccounted for, she had no way at striking back at Darcy either personally or through his bride--or his sister. The fine lace collar of her dress seemed unbearably tight, and she raked at it with her fingernails._

_"What is the matter, Mama?"_

_"You worthless, worthless girl!" screamed her mother in a hoarse croak. "You are sickly! Ugly! Useless!" She picked up the silver carving-knife from the platter of ham and raised it above her head._

_Anne, terrified, ran out of the room as the knife buried itself in the wooden frame of the breakfast-room door. As she ran, she heard her mother scream, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out." Anne continued out of the house and did not stop until she reached the parsonage._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've edited the tags a little bit after getting some feedback that they might be too strong and threatening.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 22

Charlotte Collins, already dressed for church, was enjoying a peaceful and solitary walk through the garden at the parsonage when Anne de Bourgh tumbled headlong into her arms. Her appearance was alarming. Her hair streamed around her shoulders, her skin was pale and damp with perspiration, and her eyes were red from weeping. She breathed in great, alarming gasps. Charlotte took her arm and gently guided her to a bench.

"Miss de Bourgh, do not try to talk. Whatever it is, you are safe here." Charlotte wiped the young woman's face with her handkerchief and smoothed the tumbling hair. "Just sit here and try to catch your breath. Tell me about it when you feel you are ready."

A few minutes later, Anne's breathing had returned to normal. She spoke in a voice that was barely audible. "My mother--my mother must have read something dreadful in the newspaper. She stood and began clawing at her throat. When--when I asked her what was the matter, she turned on me, screaming. She said dreadful things, horrible things. She picked up the carving-knife and threw it at my head. I ran--I ran until I came here. I have no other place nearby to seek safety. My mother is turning into a madwoman!" She burst into tears and wept bitterly in Charlotte's arms.

At that moment, Mr. Collins emerged from the house, started down the walk, and saw the two women on the bench. "My dear, what is the meaning of this? Why are you not ready for--for church?" He sputtered to a stop as he saw who was seated next to his wife. "Miss de Bourgh, what an honor! May we escort you to services this morning?" Too self-absorbed to take note of her distress, he continued. "But where is your mother?"

"Mr. Collins, Miss de Bourgh will not be attending church this morning. She has been taken ill. I shall not be attending either. I will take her into the house and assist her to lie down and will summon the doctor if needed."

"But Mrs. Collins, regular and faithful attendance at Sunday service is necessary, and nothing can be allowed to interfere. Why Lady Catherine herself--"

"Oh, Mr. Collins," his wife snapped. "What Bible have you been reading? Here is a sick person. Am I to abandon her because it is the Sabbath? I do not think so. Do not make yourself late for church. And do not mention this to Lady Catherine, although I doubt very much that she will be there."

Mr. Collins, abashed, had no choice but to depart for the church, leaving the two ladies behind on their bench.

Charlotte assisted Anne into the house. They passed the maid as they entered, and Charlotte asked her to bring strong tea to the sitting room. "Miss de Bourgh is ill. And bring the brandy." The girl threw her a worried look. "Do not worry. I will tell Mr. Collins that you were assisting me to care for a sick person." She seated Anne on the sofa and urged her to put her feet up. Then she went in search of hartshorn and lavender water.

Anne, having choked down a small measure of brandy and a cup of strong, sweet tea, began to look better. Her color returned, and Charlotte placed a cloth dipped in lavender water on her forehead.

"Do you feel more able to talk, Miss de Bourgh?" Charlotte had seated herself in a chair nearby. "Tell me what has happened."

Anne nodded and took a deep breath before speaking. "For some time now, I have felt that something was not right with my mother. She is often heard shouting--screaming, really--when no one else is present. She has always been –harsh– with the servants, but now she abuses them horribly and several of the housemaids have suddenly disappeared. I have heard whispers from the other servants that my mother sent them to a house for fallen women in London! She has dismissed others, including some of our most faithful servants, without references, a fate with which she now daily threatens poor Mrs. Jenkinson. She has also taken to drinking my father's stores of port, and she drinks far more than--oh, than what the gentlemen might consume after dinner. A few days ago, she destroyed a beautiful little sitting-room by throwing the inkstand at the wall, overturning and shattering two antique Chinese vases, and hurling an empty decanter through the window, destroying two panes of glass.

"Until this morning, she had merely been cross and impatient with me, but something she read at breakfast in yesterday's London paper set her off. She shouted that I was a useless and worthless girl. Then she took up the carving-knife from the platter in front of her and threw it at me, crying out that she had brought me into this world and that she could take me out of it. I have never been more frightened in my life. I ran out of the house and did not stop until I arrived here. I cannot imagine what was in the papers that would cause her to act in such a way."

Charlotte rang for the maid and requested the London papers for the day before. When the anxious girl brought them, Charlotte said, "Yes, yes, I know it is the Sabbath and we do not read the newspapers. But I will read them." Turning to Anne, she said, "What portion of the paper was your mother reading?"

"I am not certain, but it looked like the advertisements or social announcements."

Charlotte shuffled through the pages with a slight frown. A few minutes later she said, "Do you think this is the thing? Mr. Darcy has married Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It says here they were married two days ago at St. George's Hanover Square. I must say, I am astonished. Your mother told us--"

"That Miss Bennet had fallen from grace," Anne finished for her. "That she had thrown herself into the arms of some--some depraved viscount or other."

"Could this have been enough to throw your mother into that sort of rage?"

"Easily. For years she has been attempting to promote an engagement between Cousin Darcy and myself. Everyone knows that no such engagement ever existed. Yet she has persisted. She would be beside herself with fury after reading this announcement." Anne paused and wiped her eyes. 

"Miss de Bourgh, why have you not removed yourself from Rosings or asked your relatives for assistance? Have you been too ill to ask for help?"

Anne drew a deep breath. "I am now twenty-six years old, almost twenty seven. My twenty-fifth birthday passed almost two years ago."

"Did it indeed? I had not realized. You have always seemed so young."

"I am undersized. But I am not as sickly as I am made out to be. I was slow to recover from the measles as a child, and my mother has made the most of that for years. 

“Rosings has been handed down for generations through my father's family. It is not entailed to the male line. I am perfectly well acquainted with the terms of my father's will. I am his heiress, and I should have succeeded to Rosings and its income on the day of my twenty-fifth birthday. However, I have not been permitted to do so. My mother gives me no freedom, as you must have observed, Mrs. Collins. She does not allow me to leave Rosings and I am certain she prevents my letters from being posted. I have no contact with the outside world, nor with my relatives, except that which she permits. I have found it is better to be invisible in my mother's presence than to assert myself."

"Oh my dear girl! I am so very sorry. Rest assured that I will help you. However, we must keep an eye on the time. Mr. Collins will return from church in less than a half-hour. Come with me." She led the way upstairs to the room next to the landing that had been occupied by Elizabeth Bennet the previous spring. Once she had drawn the curtains, Charlotte indicated the bed and the chair. "Make yourself comfortable here, and I will return after Sunday dinner. It is always a quick meal, and I will bring you a tray." She sat on the edge of the bed and took Miss de Bourgh's hand in hers. "What is it you wish to do, Miss de Bourgh? Name it."

"My first choice would be to go to my uncle in Derbyshire. But that is so far away. I believe if I can get to my Cousin Darcy in London, he will assist me in contacting my uncle. However, I do not see how I can travel to London. I have no money with me, not even my reticule."

"Be easy on that head. I believe I can get you to London in safety. There is a key in the lock to this door. Please use it. When I return, I will knock and identify myself by name. Do not open to anyone else, even one of the maids." She sighed. "After all this distress, I know it is absurd to suggest it. But do try to get some rest until I return."

"Thank you, Mrs. Collins. I am in your debt."

"I will be back. Remember, open this door only to me."

As she descended the stairs, she heard her husband's voice raised in the hallway. "And why were you not in church?"

She hurried down and found him confronting the frightened maid. "I kept her from church to assist me with the sick person. She has done her duty in that respect. Surely we are not expected to abandon our fellow-man just because it is Sunday. Now, let us go in to dinner."

Charlotte had always found the dining-room to be one of the best rooms in the house. Beautifully proportioned, though small, it was graced with large windows looking out over the garden. Today she found little cheer in it. The maids were setting out the dinner, and everything was ready. After pausing for an interminable grace before meals, she set about carving the cold ham, since Mr. Collins had never been taught the masculine skill of carving joints. Then she seated herself (he never seated her when they were alone), and he picked up his knife and fork and fell to.

"And how was the attendance at church this morning?" she inquired. He had the habit of mumbling "mmm, mmm," as he ate, which she did her best to forestall with conversation.

"Mmm, tolerable," he replied. "Though Lady Catherine was also among the absent. I must call on her this afternoon to inquire after her health and to let her know that Miss de Bourgh is safe with us. Is, mmm, she resting comfortably?"

"Yes." Charlotte set down her knife and fork. "She has been through a dreadful ordeal, Mr. Collins. Her mother threw a carving-knife at her this morning and chased her out of the house."

"Parents have a duty to correct their children, Mrs. Collins. I am sure there was some reason."

"Miss de Bourgh is not a child. There are many other incidents, and I would like to discuss them with you this afternoon. Something must be done to help her."

Collins held up his hand. "Not another word, Charlotte. Not another word will you utter. I am warning you. Lady Catherine is our patroness, gracious, kind, and the exemplar of every Christian virtue. As your husband, I will not permit you to slander her in this fashion even in the privacy of our own home."

The meal continued in silence and was soon over. Charlotte stood and, with the help of one of the maids, began preparing a plate for their guest. "Nor will you give any aid or comfort to a wayward daughter. I am going now to call on Lady Catherine. I will arrange for Miss de Bourgh's escort home while I am there."

Mr. Collins stalked out of the room, and Charlotte calmly finished making up the plate. The fearful maid brought in a tray, cutlery, and linen, and they soon had a tray ready for their guest. "I will take it to her. Does Ned visit his mother on Sundays?

"Yes, ma'am. It's just across the lane in back."

"Please go there and ask him to come to the kitchen. I will not detain him more than a few minutes. I will take the tray up to our guest." She turned and left the dining room.

Miss de Bourgh admitted her. The young woman still seemed pale, but she thanked Charlotte for the food and ate hungrily. Charlotte seated herself on the edge of the bed and said, "You are not to worry, Miss De Bourgh. I have a plan that will get you to London tomorrow. Or perhaps I should say 'will get us to London tomorrow,' for I will serve as your escort and chaperone."

"I beg you not to put yourself in harm’s way, Mrs. Collins. This journey seems perilous, and while I am willing to face any danger, I would not wish to involve you. You have been so kind to me."

Charlotte gave her a smile that was slightly nervous. "I do not believe the danger will be great." She stood. "I must ask you, though, to lock yourself in now. I will return in an hour to collect your tray." She turned and left the room, hearing the key turn in the lock.

The maid approached her as she came downstairs. "Ma'am, Ned is waiting for you in the kitchen." 

The young man stood as she entered. "Ned, thank you for interrupting your day of rest. I will need you to have the gig ready in the morning for myself and one other lady. Our destination is Bromley, where we will board the mail coach bound for London. What time will we need to depart?"

"For safety sake, ma'am, I'd say we must leave at seven. You may need to wait for a time, but it is better to be early. There is a proper, decent inn there, and I will stay with you to see you safely on to the mail coach."

Daily Morning Prayer began at seven, and Charlotte was not required to attend. It was the ideal time. "Thank you, Ned. One last thing. Bring the gig to the lane behind the house--the one that stands between this house and your grandmother's. Wait for us there. We will not be late, and we will have very little baggage--perhaps a bandbox or small carpet bag." The gig would be crowded with three, but they were all small.

Ned stood when she stood. "I will be waiting for you there at seven, ma'am."

"Thank you. Please give my kind regards to your mother."

Charlotte went upstairs to her small, comfortable parlor. She unlocked the compartment in her desk where she kept her pin-money and the household allowance, thanking God that she had just received the allowance for the autumn quarter. There was more than enough money to get her and Anne de Bourgh to Mr. Darcy's house in London. She hid the purse in her bosom, re-locked the compartment, and settled in a comfortable chair with her copy of Fordyce's Sermons.

She did not have long to wait. She heard the front door open, and Mr. Collins soon entered the parlor. "How was your visit?" she asked calmly--more calmly than she felt. Her husband's normally vapid countenance looked troubled--genuinely troubled. It was one of the few times she could remember reading a genuine emotion there.

"The visit was troubling, Charlotte." The use of her first name was an indicator of his state of mind. "I went to the front door as we usually do, the butler opened it, and I asked to see Lady Catherine. He asked me to wait while he saw if she was at home. Upon his return, he told me that she was NOT at home. From somewhere within I could hear her shouting 'Send him away and never permit him to return,' followed by the shattering of glass. I also heard a young woman scream." He folded his hands for a moment and looked down. "Something is gravely amiss."

"William, this woman chased her daughter out of the house with a carving-knife this morning, as I have said. I have no reason to disbelieve Miss de Bourgh. Her distress and terror were genuine. The list of her crimes and aberrations as related to me by her daughter is shocking." Charlotte enumerated them on her fingers. "She is become a drunkard, consuming more port at a sitting than several gentlemen consume after dinner at Rosings. She screams when no one is present. She sends housemaids off to London, where they disappear. Perhaps she is sending them into a life of sin. Was not Miss Bennet rescued from a house of ill repute? She abuses her servants. She has defaced and destroyed her sitting-room."

"How can we be sure of all these things? These are serious accusations."

"Well, I have not yet reached the most serious. How old is Miss de Bourgh?"

"Why, she--she has recently passed her twenty-third birthday, I believe."

"And how do you know this?"

"From her mother."

"She is not twenty-three, Mr. Collins. She is nearly twenty-seven. She was supposed to inherit her father's property and the fortune that goes with it when she turned twenty-five. That was almost two years ago. Instead of being mistress of Rosings, she has been kept there almost as a prisoner by her mother. You should be able to verify this yourself. Look at the parish register."

"I will, madam."

Collins left, and his wife awaited his return with little patience. It did not take long, and when he returned, Collins carried the large book under his arm. "The relevant pages from twenty-six and twenty-three years ago have been crudely torn out," he said. "They are completely missing. I will keep this under lock and key in my own study until I learn from the authorities what to do about it."

"How much more proof do you need, William? This is a serious business. You must be very careful. It is unlawful to tamper with the church register and I would not have you accused of having destroyed those pages."

"I cannot believe that a lady who has been so noted for her generosity, her condescension, her Christian virtue--that such a lady would stoop so low."

"Well, then, I will finish the story for you, and you may decide for yourself. Why do you suppose she attacked her own daughter this morning? I will tell you. She learned from yesterday's papers that two days ago Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy took a wife. He was married at St. George's Hanover Square to Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Impossible. Miss Bennet threw herself into the arms of a depraved man, Viscount __. Why--"

"That is why you went so hastily to Longbourn. To inform her father of that fact and to spread the news. It was not true, William. You were sent to Longbourn to spread the news of--to publish--an untruth. A lie. She caused you to bear false witness against a virtuous, decent young woman. You were her pawn. And what of poor Lydia Bennet? It was the same thing. She was cast adrift in London, trying desperately to free herself from a man who would dishonor her, and she was not yet sixteen. And there you were, posting off to Longbourn and from thence to Lucas Lodge to spread the news of her downfall--a downfall that never was. Who sent you? Who told you--or in that case, I will say who told us?"

"I have a great deal to think about," her husband replied. "She is our patroness. She has preferred me to this valuable living."

"And what will that profit you if you lose your own soul, William? Who will you answer to for allowing your flock to be ravaged by that--that she-wolf?"

Charlotte noted that her husband seemed to be changing before her eyes. The stupid, childish expression was completely gone now, and he looked like a grown man--a deeply troubled, thoughtful man. His voice had lost its obsequious sing-song quality and had deepened in timbre almost as she listened to it.

"Charlotte, my dear, you are right. There will be time enough for me to think on my own sins later. What must we do to ensure the safety of Miss de Bourgh and the others in that house?"

"I believe I can trust you, William, so I will tell you. Miss de Bourgh has begged me to help her reach the protection of her uncle, the Earl. Since he is in Derbyshire--a long and dangerous drive--I can best achieve that by taking her to London to her cousin, Mr. Darcy. Under his protection, and with his assistance, she can contact the Earl. I plan to leave here with her tomorrow morning at seven. Ned will drive us in the gig to Bromley, and we will board the London mail coach at mid-morning. The trip to London is short."

"You will require money."

"I have my quarterly housekeeping allowance and my pin money," she replied.

"You may need more. I will see that you have it."

"Thank you, Mr. Collins. I believe I will invite Miss de Bourgh to join us for supper. She will be relieved to hear that she can depend upon you. As for the unfortunate servants in that house, you must be vigilant. Get a note to Timmons, the butler, and tell him to come to you if anything is amiss."

"I must lock this in my study, and then I will join you and Miss de Bourgh for supper. I will prepare the note for Timmons this evening."

* * *

Sir Henry Martin was tired. He had been up late the night before dealing with urgent letters from Bath. After his usual attendance at church and the traditional mid-day Sunday dinner of cold meats, Sir Henry Martin was forced to do without his Sunday afternoon nap. His carriage was ordered shortly after he stood up from the table.

He kissed his wife, entered his carriage, and drove to Meryton. He stopped first at the home of Mr. Appleton, the apothecary, who was expecting him. The two men walked across the street to the home of Edmund Renfrew, Sir Henry's secretary, who lived in Meryton with his young wife and child. Mr. Renfrew was also expecting him, and the three made their way to the edge of town where the gaol was situated.

They were admitted by the senior constable, Banks. The gaol consisted of two rooms--a very large front room and a small room at the back. About half of the front room had been turned into a cell by the addition of sturdy sets of iron bars securely bolted to the stone floor and to the ceiling. The entire cell was visible to anyone standing in the room. It was furnished with a cot, a straight chair, and a small deal table. "Good afternoon, Constable," began Sir Henry. "And how is our guest today?"

"Well, sir, His Lordship ain't too satisfied with the accommodations."

The prisoner, seated in the corner of his cell, stared insolently through the bars. "Indeed?" returned Sir Henry.

"No, sir. The food is not to his liking, the bed is lumpy, he's bein' maltreated, and the cell is filthy."

"Really. Well, I know that Mrs. Banks takes care of the food and the cleaning, and she is a notable housewife and cook. I see no evidence of dust or dirt, or any, ah, infestations."

"Nor will you find any, sir. And it's the same food as is on our table at home every day, sir."

"But maltreated? How can this be, Banks?"

"Well, sir, I required the prisoner to wash. It was downright unpleasant bein' in the same room with him, sir. And I gave him a clean shirt to wear, courtesy of the parish." Banks raised his fingers to enumerate. "He was displeased with the temperature of the water--too cold. He was unhappy with the soap--too harsh. And the shirt is--injurious--to his delicate skin."

"I see. Well, Banks, do not worry. The prisoner will not be enjoying our hospitality for too much longer," replied Sir Henry. Turning to the prisoner, he said, "What do you have to say for yourself, Wickham?"

Wickham returned an insolent smile. "Not a thing, sir. Not a thing."

"Mr. Appleton, would you be good enough to examine the prisoner and determine when he will be fit for travel? I would say the journey will be near two hundred miles. The destination is Bath, and I had a letter from them very late last night requesting the honor of Mr. Wickham's presence."

The apothecary, under the watchful eye of Constable Banks, examined Wickham's injury carefully. When he had finished, he left the cell and waited while the constable locked it. "The wound is, quite literally a scratch, Sir Henry. While it was undoubtedly painful to receive, it is no more than the sort of cut you might receive whilst pruning your roses. Miss Bennet's aim was true, and if she had dealt the blow with a little more force, she might have saved us the expense of all this hospitality. However, I must say she achieved her desired objective, which was to prevent this man from injuring her. He is fit to travel this afternoon if necessary."

"Capital! His Majesty will be sending a special escort tomorrow."

Wickham's eyes grew wary, and he licked his lips. "What about Miss Mary Bennet?"

"You mean 'the Misses Bennet,' do you not, Wickham?" Out of the corner of his eye, Sir Henry could see Renfrew busy with pen, ink, and paper at the rough table that served the constables as a desk. "Well, let me think." He pulled a chair over to the bars and sat backwards on it, leaning thoughtfully on his arms. "We have Miss Lydia Bennet. That would be unlawful abduction of a girl under sixteen. We have the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet, now Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. That would be abduction, kidnapping, assault and battery, and--ah--conspiracy to commit rape. Turning to Miss Mary Bennet, we have assault and battery, attempted rape, and probably attempted murder. That knife was very sharp, Mr. Wickham. This list is probably incomplete, but it is the best I can do on the spur of the moment. I do not believe our little corner of Hertfordshire has seen this much crime in a hundred years. And I speak for all of us when I say, we do not like it."

"But why send me all the way to--where was it--Bath?"

"Notwithstanding the long list of crimes you have committed here, the authorities are very anxious to confer with you in Bath, Mr. Wickham. First there is the matter of the assault, battery, and attempted abduction of Miss Caroline Bingley. How unfortunate for you and your hired men that her footman's head got in the way of that club one of them was wielding. That turned your tidy little abduction into homicide--whether it was murder or manslaughter I am not prepared to judge. As I see it, sending you off to Somersetshire as quickly as possible is an excellent idea. It will save us the expenses of hanging and burying you."

Wickham licked his lips again. "I might be able to implicate someone who is far greater than I. Someone who is wealthier, more influential."

"And why would you wish to do that, Mr. Wickham?"

"I feel certain that some...consideration...might be worked out, Sir Henry. My testimony might go a long way towards convicting this--person--of all the crimes you have described today, as well as others, including some you may not even have dreamed of. But I cannot testify to anything if I am dead."

"I am not in the habit of dispensing advice to criminals, Mr. Wickham, but in your case I will make an exception. Mention your offer to the authorities in Bath."

"But sir, would you not consider writing to tell them what I have told you? I am sure you are well respected. Word from you would go a long way toward securing leniency for me."

"Very well, Wickham. Tell me what you have to say, and I will write to them."

Wickham's demeanor was somber as he pulled his chair over to the bars and seated himself facing Sir Henry. "The person I am referring to is no less than Lady Catherine de Bourgh, aunt of Mr. and Miss Darcy and sister of the Earl of Matlock."

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings in Kent? Widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh? What in Heaven's name could her motive be?"

"She wishes to consolidate all of Rosings Park and Pemberley, and their associated fortunes, under her own control. She wishes to outshine her brother the Earl in wealth, prestige, and honor. And to that end, she has paid me among other things to seduce and abduct Miss Georgiana Darcy and Miss Lydia Bennet, to hire two men to assist me in the assault, battery, and abduction of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and to abduct Miss Caroline Bingley. The demise of the footman was an unfortunate accident. He was only to have been rendered unconscious."

"What of the attempted rape of Miss Mary Bennet?"

"That was my own idea. Having failed to deliver on the first two Misses Bennet and on Miss Bingley, I felt myself to be on thin ice. Since Lady Catherine wished most of all to discredit the Bennet family, I felt that the, ah, the ruin of one of the sisters might forward that venture. I might add that Lady Catherine owns a significant interest in the bawdy house in Audley Street. You may find two or three housemaids who have displeased her among the young ladies in residence there." Wickham settled back in his chair with the air of a man who has done his duty. "I will only add that there is little written evidence of any of this. Lady Catherine recorded her transactions with me in a small red leather ledger which she carried back and forth from Rosings to her house in London. Her advances to me were drawn on the __ Bank."

"And is that all, Wickham?"

"Good Lord, is it not enough?"

"I will write to the authorities in Bath and tell them all that you have told me. What they decide to do is up to them." Sir Henry stood and turned his chair back around. To the constable, he said, "Have him ready by dawn, if you please, Banks. I will be here a half-hour before that to see him off. There will undoubtedly be paperwork. And give my regards to your excellent wife."

Appleton and Renfrew were ready, and Sir Henry strode out of the gaol without a backward glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all for your patience and your kind comments!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 23

Shortly after dawn Monday morning in Meryton, Sir Henry Martin finished his tin cup of excellent coffee, said his goodbyes to the two parish constables, and mounted his horse. The transfer of the prisoner had been completed smoothly and with no trouble. Wickham, pale and silent, had been shackled hand and foot for his long journey to Bath, and he would have at least two armed men guarding him for the entire journey. As he rode toward home, Sir Henry thought that after breakfast he would ride over the Longbourn. His old friend Bennet deserved to hear the news first hand.

* * *

At a quarter to seven in Hunsford, the Reverend William Collins escorted two ladies out of the back door and down the garden path to the lane, where a gig stood waiting. He handed two small bags to the young man who was driving before turning to the smaller of the two ladies. "Godspeed, Miss de Bourgh," he said as he handed her up into the gig.

Next he turned to his wife. "Godspeed, Charlotte. Do take care. Are you certain you have enough money?"

"I feel certain I do, William. I have what I started with plus the extra you gave me." She placed her hand on his arm. "Look after those poor souls at Rosings, especially Mrs. Jenkinson."

"You have my word." The church bell began tolling the hour, and Mr. Collins kissed his wife and handed her up into the gig.

* * *

Nine o'clock found Elizabeth presiding over breakfast for the first time as Mrs. Darcy and pouring coffee for her husband and Colonel Fitzwilliam. All three were cheerful, and the conversation centered on their attendance at church the day before, and the projected shopping trip.

"If I know the old man, he will be rolling into town sometime about noon," said the colonel.

"Would you and the Earl do us the honor of joining us for dinner?" asked Elizabeth. She caught Darcy's nod of approval.

"I am sure I speak for my father when I say we would be delighted, Cousin Elizabeth. I will spend some time this morning moving my kit home. Do not be surprised if my father stops by for a visit soon after his arrival in town. If he comes home first, I will accompany him."

"I must go and get ready for my own expedition," said Elizabeth as she stood. "Until later today, then."

Two hours later, after successful visits to the milliner's and shoemaker's, the barouche was piled high with boxes. Darcy, who had for the most part waited patiently and read his newspaper, handed a written direction to the coachman. "Take Jenny home with the boxes and call for us at that direction in two hours," he said. "It is but a few steps down the street from here." Then he turned to his wife, offered his arm, and said "My turn."

The shop was a jeweler's. Darcy led her through a door into a large, well-appointed private office. He presented the proprietor, Mr. Blackstone, who seated them in front of a desk near a window that flooded the room with light. The sight of what was laid out there quite took her breath away.

The two men sat back and regarded her with an air of expectancy. She gazed at each parure and demi-parure in turn, not knowing what to say. Her gaze was drawn to a simple riviere necklace of sapphires with matching earrings. She was also drawn to a cunningly wrought set of diamonds. It included earrings, a beautiful and simple necklace, and a sunburst brooch.

"If I may, Madam, the diamond parure can be worn in a number of different ways. The foundation is, of course, the necklace. The brooch serves as both a brooch and a pendant while the earrings may be worn in either of two ways." He demonstrated.

Elizabeth's cheeks puffed out slightly in a way that Darcy recognized as a sign of her sometimes ironic sense of humor, but Mr. Blackstone did not notice. "A happy thought indeed," she said.

"Try them both on, Mrs. Darcy," said her husband. She removed her amethyst pendant and handed it to him for safekeeping. First the sapphires, then the diamonds, were tried on and admired.

"I think you had better have both," said Darcy. "Having seen you wearing them, I cannot choose between them." 

“I shall need several new gowns to match such beautiful jewels,” replied Elizabeth with a teasing smile.

“You shall have them,” he smiled back. 

Elizabeth clasped the pendant back around her neck, Darcy shook hands with Mr. Blackstone, and they returned to the showroom together. When the jewels were wrapped and stowed safely in Darcy's pockets, they left the store and found the barouche waiting for them in front.

"I do not know how to thank you," said Elizabeth as they started for home. "I cannot kiss you in this open carriage." She spoke quietly to avoid being heard by the coachman and footman.

To her delight, Darcy winked. "Wear the sapphires for the Earl this evening," he said. He knew what she did not. By day's end, Mr. Blackstone would have informed half of fashionable London of what jewels from his shop had been favored by Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. 

“Well, they did tell me in Audley Street that some gentleman would soon have me covered in gems.”

“The only gentleman who will be covering you in gems is me. In fact, I would not object to seeing you covered in those sapphires and very little else.” 

“If you keep whispering against my ear, Mr. Darcy, that might happen before we reach home.” 

Once home, they settled in the library and Elizabeth ordered a light luncheon to be served there. Just as they finished, the butler pushed the door open and announced, "Mrs. William Collins. Miss Anne de Bourgh."

Elizabeth was momentarily rooted to the spot as the two ladies entered the room. She recovered herself and went forward to embrace them, noting Anne's pallor and Charlotte's nervousness. Both looked weary, and she realized they must have traveled from Kent that very day. "I am so happy to see you both!" she exclaimed. 

"What has happened? Have you come from Kent? Cousin Anne, what about your mother? You never travel without her." Darcy appeared deeply concerned as he greeted them.

"We left Hunsford at seven this morning, Mr. Darcy," replied Charlotte. "We took the mail coach from Bromley."

“Let me escort you both upstairs. You will wish to take off your bonnets and pelisses.” She turned to Darcy and said, “We will return in a few minutes” before leading the the way upstairs to her dressing room, 

Mrs. Jenkins came bustling in, sent by the butler. "Mrs. Jenkins, please arrange for tea to be brought to my study as soon as possible and prepare the two adjoining rooms near Miss Georgiana's apartments for our guests. Colonel Fitzwilliam, my uncle Matlock and Sgt. Parker are expected. Please bring them in here when they arrive. Otherwise, we are not to be disturbed." 

When the ladies had returned a few minutes later, and their privacy was assured, Darcy turned to his cousin. "Now tell us why you are here Cousin Anne. While we are certainly happy to see you, you have never left Rosings on your own before – what has happened?"

“My mother tried to kill me yesterday. She read the announcement of your marriage in the paper, and it made her so angry that she threw a carving-knife at my head, barely missing me. I left the house and ran to the Parsonage. Mr. and Mrs. Collins hid me there until this morning, the first opportunity we had of reaching London.”

Elizabeth gasped. “Mr. Collins helped you?”

Charlotte interrupted. “My husband realized that Lady Catherine has been using him to spread falsehoods and gossip,” said Charlotte. “There are some other issues as well, concerning the parish records. We should remember to discuss those later, Mr. Darcy.”

“Cousin Anne, why would your mother attack you so violently? Was it merely the news of the marriage?” 

“Cousin Darcy, I have come to understand that my mother desires but one thing: To consolidate Rosings and Pemberley, and their two associated fortunes, under her own control. When she attacked me, she screamed that I was ‘useless.’ And of course I had been useless in forwarding her ambition. You should also know that she has kept me virtually a prisoner at home. She retains complete control of Rosings, which I should have inherited almost two years ago. I am not even given an allowance.”

“She lies about Miss de Bourgh’s age,” added Charlotte. “My husband thought she had recently turned twenty-three, when in reality she is twenty-six years old. He found yesterday that the parish register which should have recorded her birth and baptism had been defaced. The relevant pages had been torn from the volume. This was what finally convinced my husband that we should give all aid and succor to Miss de Bourgh. And so here we are.” 

Darcy took Anne's hand. "And here you will stay under my protection until these matters have been resolved. You have been the victim of a terrible injustice, Anne," said Darcy. "I will do whatever I can to help you."

"I had hoped to secure your assistance in getting to Derbyshire to our uncle," said Anne.

"Fortunately, he is on his way here. In fact, he may already have arrived. Fitzwilliam is also in town, and they are dining with us this evening."

Anne's eyes closed briefly, and she seemed to relax for the first time. “It has been very difficult to live at Rosings with my mother. She appears to have lost her mind.”

Elizabeth related some of the tales of her own harrowing capture and Darcy told them about the attempt to abduct Miss Bingley. 

Darcy looked at his watch. "Sergeant Parker will be here at any moment, and I must speak with him. Mrs. Collins, if you wish to inform Mr. Collins of your safe arrival, perhaps you will write a note and I will see that it is delivered to him."

Elizabeth opened the writing-desk for Charlotte and found herself pressing more food on Anne. The young woman's color improved by the minute as she relaxed. 

"We should ask if any of the young women in that terrible place were sent there from Rosings," said Anne. "I must find a way to assist them in re-establishing themselves."

"Did you know Mrs. Oliver and her daughter, Ruth?" asked Elizabeth. "Charlotte, Ruth was parlor-maid when I visited you in Hunsford last spring."

"Yes. Lady Catherine told me she had arranged for a better post for Ruth in London."

"Well, I suppose Lady Catherine found placing her as lady's maid in the house on Audley Street to be a better post, for that is where she ended up along with her mother."

Anne shook her head. "I am determined to help them."

They heard men's voices in the hall, and Darcy entered with Colonel Fitzwilliam and a tall silver-haired man who could only be the Earl. He went immediately to his niece and embraced her. "All will be well, dear Anne. We have you safe now, and we will not let you go."

After bowing gravely to Charlotte, he turned to Elizabeth, took her hand in both of his, and kissed her cheek. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Darcy. My nephew has found himself a bride who is not only beautiful but valiant as well. I am delighted to meet you."

"I am pleased to meet you as well, sir."

When they had all been seated, Darcy held up a letter. "This is from Sir Henry Martin, written late last night."

"Sir Henry Martin of Meryton?" Charlotte was surprised.

"The same. Wickham was transported to Bath early this morning, and he will stand trial along with his two hired men for the killing of Miss Bingley's footman. Before he left, he thoroughly implicated Lady Catherine in several of his crimes."

"But what was he doing in Meryton?" asked Charlotte.

"He was being held there for an attempted assault on Miss Mary Bennet. She successfully defended herself by disarming him and striking at him with his own knife."

"I know not what to say," she replied. "I am all astonishment."

"As were we all."

The Earl picked up the conversation. "This situation cannot and will not be allowed to continue. I have asked Sergeant Parker to dispatch two good men to Rosings immediately. Mrs Collins, am I correct in presuming your husband will wish to help them?" 

"I believe so, yes, sir."

They will be sent with letters for Mr. Collins. These include your note, Mrs. Collins. We know that some of the servants at Rosings may be in danger, and the men will be charged with safeguarding them and with ensuring that Lady Catherine does not escape. 

"Anne, I have written to my solicitor and requested him to wait upon me at nine tomorrow morning. We will have a full day's work. We will begin by reviewing Sir Lewis de Bourgh's will to determine his intentions with respect to Rosings. I will confirm that you were to have inherited your father's entire estate when you reached the age of twenty-five. If Sir Lewis named your mother as executor of his estate and trustee on your behalf, then she appears to have defrauded you of your money and property. If someone other than your mother was named as executor, it may be that your mother has conspired with that person to deprive you of what is rightfully yours."

"Your father died while you were still under age, but as the head of our family, I was never notified that a guardian or trustee had been appointed for you, and I assumed that your mother was named in Sir Lewis' will as your guardian and trustee. But that may not have been the case and it is possible that your mother usurped that person's position. Anne. I am truly sorry for not acting sooner, and I hope you will forgive me." 

"Once we have dealt with the question of Rosings, we need to identify and assist the other victims of this tragedy, especially the young women who were abducted and held in the Audley Street house against their will. We also must make a list of all those known to have been injured and who may be entitled to compensation for the damages they have suffered. Finally, we must take care to proceed in order to best protect the reputations of several respectable families, including the Bennets, the Darcys, the Fitzwilliams, and possibly even the Bingleys. I will obtain advice from my solicitor on how to best proceed. Nephew, I will ask you and your excellent Sergeant Parker to hold yourselves in readiness."

Darcy nodded.

"That is all for now, but there will be more, I assure you all." He turned to Elizabeth with a smile. “Until this evening, Mrs. Darcy. Ladies.”

* * *

Mr. Collins ate a late and lonely supper in the dining-room at the parsonage. Because he was alone, he brought a book from his study to read as he ate. It was a curious volume, old, leather-bound, and somewhat resembling a ledger. It was in fact a hand-written journal which he had found among some books left in the study by previous occupants. He had been reading it all afternoon.

As he read, there was a loud knocking at the door and the sound of shouting in the front hall. Lady Catherine swept in, immaculately coiffed and gowned, and with every appearance of being sober. Mr. Collins rose courteously from his place at the table.

"Where is my daughter? What have you done with her? And where is your wife, Mr. Collins?"

"My wife has escorted Miss de Bourgh to a place of safety. That is all I am at liberty to tell you."

She leaned forward so that her face was unpleasantly close to his, and flecks of spittle hit his face as she continued. "I can make it very, very unpleasant for you, Mr. Collins. There are those who would support my case with the Bishop."

"Would those be the same persons who falsely supported your case against the Reverend Doctor Charles Oliver?" Collins held up the book. "His journal makes for interesting reading. Almost as interesting as the parish register from twenty-six years ago. The difference is that the journal is not missing any of its pages."

She tried in to snatch the book from him, and when she failed, she turned and left the room without a word. Collins, watching from the doorway, saw Darcy's man waiting silently near the back stairs. He followed Lady Catherine out, staying well back in the shadows, and in a few moments, her carriage rumbled down the lane toward Rosings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too many notes. The jewels described in this chapter are all real, taken from photographs of real jewelry of the Georgian era. I had a grand time "shopping" for Elizabeth in museums and auction-houses.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 24

The dinner had turned out to be a surprising success, given Elizabeth’s state of nerves beforehand. Anne and Charlotte had been able to rest, and Jenny had found gowns for them in Elizabeth’s and Georgiana’s wardrobes. Although there were intervals of serious talk, the entire party had done their best to ensure that the conversation was light, pleasant, and relaxing. Darcy was always at his best with close friends and family, and Elizabeth realized with a little stab of delight that she formed part of that circle now. She was also pleased with her simple gown of ivory silk, and she had worn the sapphires. 

Their guests left after tea, and Charlotte and Anne begged to be excused shortly thereafter. Elizabeth and Darcy picked up their candles and started up the stairs arm in arm. When they reached the hallway to their rooms, Darcy said quietly, “Send your maid away.” The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice sent a delightful shiver through her, and she nodded.

When she had sent Jenny away and passed into his room, she found him waiting in his shirtsleeves. “I think the Earl noticed the sapphires,” she said with a smile. “Though he did not say anything.” 

“He is too much of a gentleman to say anything so personal. But he noticed. And so did I.” Her preference for gowns with square-cut necklines that showed a discreet decolletage was not lost on Darcy, and this particular neckline had kept his senses on a knife-edge all evening. He wanted nothing more at present than to explore that line between ivory silk and snowy breast, and he closed the distance between them in an instant, covering her with kisses until she moaned and pulled his face up to meet hers. 

The gown and its heavy petticoats were discarded, and she stood before him in nothing but the gleaming necklace. He ran a finger around it and said roughly, “It is nothing when compared with your eyes.” 

Elizabeth, never taking her eyes off him, reached up to begin removing the combs and pins from her hair. “No, not this time,” he said, reaching out a hand to stop her. “The next time I see you gowned and coiffed for the evening, I want to remember making love to you like this.” 

Later, when they lay together spoon-fashion in the wide bed, he helped her remove the necklace so that it would not injure her skin as she slept. 

***  
The next morning at breakfast, Elizabeth and Darcy both noticed that Anne’s looks were greatly improved. Her cheeks had a more natural bloom, her eyes had all but lost their dark circles, and her dark blonde hair was arranged in a natural, feminine style that accentuated her delicate features. 

“I have slept so well!” she exclaimed. “And this morning I have such an appetite.” 

“You shall have as much as you like of whatever you like,” replied Elizabeth with a smile, passing a heaping platter of ham and following it with the eggs. “My mother would insist upon feeding you porridge with rich cream and plenty of sugar.” 

“That sounds delicious,” replied Anne. “And I will have some just as soon as I finish these lovely eggs.” Anne set down her knife and fork. “At home I was not permitted such foods. My mother said they had too much grease and heaviness. Breakfast was a soft-boiled egg and dry toast, though the other things were on the table. The thought of porridge with cream and sugar sounds like heaven.” 

“And what of other meals, Anne?” Elizabeth had always enjoyed her food, and her mother was noted for keeping an excellent table. 

“I ate mostly the white meat of chicken and certain delicate fish,” she replied. “Beef and other meats were supposed to be too difficult for me to digest, and for vegetables I had peas when they were available, potatoes without butter, and winter vegetables such as turnips. Most fruit was forbidden. The cook often made me up a gruel to soothe my digestion. But I have always felt a little hungry.” 

“Here you shall have all you want,” replied Elizabeth. “If you do not feel well, you need not eat. Otherwise, eat your fill and enjoy your food. Everything is wholesome and good.” 

Charlotte, too, looked well rested and less nervous. “I wonder if I should consider returning home, now that Miss de Bourgh is in such good hands,” she said as she sipped her tea. 

“Mrs. Collins, I am sure you would be pleased to return to your husband and to the parish,” said Darcy. “But you are safe here. Do me the honor of accepting my protection until the difficulties at Rosings are resolved. I am certain Mr. Collins would agree with me.” 

“Of course you are right, Mr. Darcy. I thank you, and so will Mr. Collins.”

“If you like, we can send a man to Hunsford for your trunk. If you would be so good as to prepare a list of the items you require, he can be on his way within the hour and will return before evening. I am sure one of the maids at the parsonage can pack for you.” 

“How kind. I will do that directly.” 

“Cousin Anne,” said Elizabeth, “I had no clothes when I arrived here either. Mrs. Jenkins consulted with the mantua-maker patronized by Georgiana, and I have a lovely wardrobe now. She can do the same for you if you like. It will soon be safe enough for you to shop by yourself, but not yet.” 

Their guests soon dispersed to write their notes and lists, and Elizabeth joined Darcy in the library. “Let us take a turn in the garden,” he said. “The morning is still cool and fresh.” He offered her his arm, and they stepped together out of the French doors. The garden was like a small jewel. The noise and traffic of the city could be heard but did not intrude. 

“I have not yet begun to appreciate this enough,” said Elizabeth with a luxurious sigh. “I should come out here every day to spend time.”

“We can also spend time here together,” he replied, kissing her. “We no longer need to hide from family and chaperones. Now we can hide from everyone.” They sat together on a bench, and his eyes grew serious. “Elizabeth, I must leave you for a few hours to go to my uncle. Fitzwilliam is on his way here, and there is a project I would like for you to undertake.”

“You have only to name it.”

“Anne has expressed a desire to help the young women in Audley Street. I would like for you and Mrs. Collins to go with her to interview them. Of course you will be accompanied by Fitzwilliam, and you will be well guarded, but the young women may open their hearts more readily to other women. Anne should be able to identify any that came from Rosings, though Sergeant Parker has already done that. I am concerned that there may be talk that an unmarried girl should not hear.”

“Of course you may rely on me, my dearest. We will go as soon as Cousin Richard arrives.” 

Darcy’s eyes took on a troubled look. “Wickham should arrive in Bath late today. He and his hired men will be taken to the gaol in Wells, which is a short distance from Bath. The midsummer assizes are meeting there, and they will be tried for assault and battery on Caroline Bingley, attempted abduction, and of course the murder of the footman. The trial will take place soon, because the midsummer session is almost at an end. I believe they will be convicted, and if that is so, they will be hanged--Wickham included. It grieves me for the sake of both my father and his, but I will not help him. If he has done these things, he deserves his punishment.” 

Elizabeth took his large hand in both of her small ones. “I am so sorry, my dearest love. But you have done everything for him. No one could have tried harder or done more. When the day comes, we will grieve together.” 

He kissed her tenderly, loving her for the sweetness of her words and the wisdom that lay behind them. “Now, here is something much more pleasant.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a letter. “I have had a letter from Georgiana and she encloses a note for you.” 

Elizabeth smiled as she opened her note. “She is the dearest girl!” she exclaimed as she finished reading. “She welcomes me to the family, tells me how glad she is to have me as a sister, and cannot wait until we are together at Pemberley, where she says we will have music every day. Here, you may read it for yourself. I will confess that I, too, wish we were at Pemberley.” 

“It will not be long now, dearest. We will be at Pemberley, but first we will stop at Longbourn.”

“Do you suppose Lady Catherine is--is doing something to Anne’s food?” Elizabeth’s eyes held a thoughtful look. 

“I think it more likely that she is being constantly underfed. Anne had a severe attack of the measles when she was already into her teens. Georgiana and I both had them as children and recovered quickly, but I remember that Anne was sick for weeks. It seems likely that her mother has used the illness as a means of restricting her diet and depriving her of fresh air and exercise. You might do well to confer with the chef about serving wholesome, plain dishes while she is here. He will not like it at first, but he will rise to the challenge. She is resting well, and her appetite is good. She has always seemed too thin and small to me.” 

“That is easily done,” replied Elizabeth. “I have already made the chef’s acquaintance. I will go now and tell Anne and Charlotte about our expedition to Audley Street.” 

“Before you go, there is one more thing. Included in my uncle’s note this morning was an invitation for all of us to accompany him to the theater this evening. That is to be followed by supper at the Piazza.”

“How thoughtful. I feel sure Anne and Charlotte will be as delighted as I am.” 

“It is a thoughtful gesture. I feel sure he wishes to lessen the burden of what is to come,” replied Darcy. “It will not be easy for any of us.” 

Elizabeth left him with a kiss and returned to her sitting room. As the three ladies were making their plans to go to Audley Street, they heard the cheerful voice of Colonel Fitzwilliam in the hallway, and he and Darcy soon entered the sitting room. “I understand I am to have the pleasure of escorting you ladies to Audley Street,” said the colonel. 

“Do you have a notebook and lead-pencil, Cousin?” asked Elizabeth. He searched his pockets and showed her the requested articles. “It has never made any sense to me that gentlemen have these useful articles and ladies have them but seldom. But you may be our scribe.” 

They said goodbye to Darcy and were soon making their way around the corner to the houses on Audley Street, discreetly followed by two of Parker’s men. The club appeared vacant, but Charlotte noted that someone had uncovered the windows of the residence so that it looked inhabited and normal. They were admitted by one of the guards and shown into the drawing-room.

Mrs. Oliver and Ruth soon joined them. While Susan looked much the same, Mrs. Oliver was clean and neat, attired in a sober but well made gown and white cap. Neither was wearing an apron. Anne stood and went to them immediately. “Mrs Oliver! Ruth!” she cried. “I am so sorry that this has happened. You were sent here under false pretenses by my mother. It is my intention to rectify that as soon as I can and to settle you in Hunsford or wherever you choose.” 

“Thank you, Miss de Bourgh. How may I be of assistance?”

Anne gestured towards Elizabeth, and Elizabeth spoke. “Miss de Bourgh wishes to speak to the women who live in this house, both those employed as servants and those who were employed in--in the club next door. She wishes to determine who has been brought here against her will or under false pretenses, especially from Rosings.” 

Mrs. Oliver thought for a few moments. “I suggest we start with the servants,” she said. “You will find that a large number of them simply applied to work here. They are continuing to work, and we assume their wages are being paid by Mr. Darcy, who is also providing us with food and other necessities. The concern of these servants is that they will be turned off without references.”

“Would you please bring them here, Mrs. Oliver?” 

She nodded and left the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam seated himself at a small table, opened his notebook, and prepared to write. Mrs. Oliver soon returned with about a dozen people, men and women, following her. 

Elizabeth stood. “I am Mrs. Darcy, and this is Miss de Bourgh,” she began. “I understand you are all employed here as servants, and that you secured your employment here through the normal channels. Is that correct?” No one spoke up, and several nodded. “You are concerned about being turned away without proper recommendations.”

Again, several people nodded. An older woman, clearly the cook, stepped forward and curtsied. “If I may speak, ma’am.” Elizabeth nodded gravely. “I am Mrs. Butler, the cook. Most--or I should say all of us--were hired by Madame Charpentier about four months ago. Everyone had served at posts in other houses, and everyone came with proper recommendations. The wages were good, and we were paid on time. But we have been here long enough now, and the reputation of this house is so bad, that we may never be able to secure decent posts again. I know I was told that this was a seminary for young ladies. I would not have come here if I had known what sort of place this was. I believe I speak for all of us.” No one dissented, and several nodded.

“Thank you,” replied Elizabeth. “Please give your name and your position to the gentlemen seated at the table over there. We will speak with you again. Until this is resolved, you may continue working here and receiving your wages.” 

Mrs. Oliver next brought in a group of six young women. Anne reached out to them with a cry of recognition, then said nothing more as they stood quietly and looked at her. “These six young women were brought here and forced to work as ladies’ maids without pay, as was my daughter. They are from the area surrounding Rosings.” 

Colonel Fitzwilliam stood and moved the small table over to Elizabeth. “I will be out in front if you require me, Cousin, he said quietly. You had better take over the scribe duties.” He handed her the notebook and lead-pencil. 

“I am Mrs. Darcy, and it appears you already know Miss de Bourgh. This is Mrs. Collins, wife of the rector of Hunsford.” 

“He’s Lady Catherine’s man!” exclaimed one of the girls. 

“I assure you, he is not,” replied Elizabeth. “Along with the rest of us, it took Mr. Collins some time to understand what was going on. His eyes have now been opened, as have everyone else’s. Perhaps we should all sit down.” 

Once they were seated, Elizabeth continued. “We understand that you all ‘disappeared’ from Rosings, or that you were lured away under false pretenses or taken against your will. Is that correct?” 

The young women were silent for a moment until one, slightly older than the rest, stood up. She bobbed a curtsey and said, “If you please, ma’am. It was almost the same for all of us, only we came at different times. I was employed at Rosings as a housemaid. My pa rented his farm from Lady Catherine, and I grew up there. Only--only he hurt himself. Broke his leg whilst pruning a tree in the orchard, and he was in bed for the longest time. My younger brothers all helped as best they could, and my ma, and the neighbors was wonderful. I went to work at Rosings and gave Ma my wages. Lady Catherine called me in one day and said she pitied my family and that she had arranged for me to get a place in London as parlor maid in a large house. The wages was to be almost twice what I was paid at Rosings. I left two days later. Someone met me at the coach, and I came here. I never saw a farthing of my wages.” She stopped and drew a shivering breath. “And I am afraid. Such dreadful talk as we listened to each day from that woman. My parents raised me to be a good girl and told me I must be a maid when I marry.” She burst into tears and sat, crying quietly. 

Each of the five other girls had a similar story. Some related distress, illness, or hardship within their families. One, who had been left an orphan, told of being abducted. All were deprived of their wages once they began work in Audley Street. Most were worried about their families at home. Several spoke of having the same impression regarding Lady Catherine. As one girl said, “Right up to the point where she offered me the better post, I always felt she did not like me.” 

Mrs. Oliver cast an uneasy glance at Anne and said, “What I have to add is not fit for the ears of an unmarried woman,” she said. My own child already knows of it.”

Anne spoke up. “It is my responsibility to correct what has happened. It is my responsibility to hear what is said. Let us continue.” 

“Very well then,” said the older woman. “These girls were expected to join the others working at the club,” she said. “They were to work as ladies’ maids until they acquired a veneer of ladylike manners. They received instruction from Mrs. Younge every day in deportment and other more distressing matters.” 

No one spoke. Anne’s eyes grew wide. Elizabeth found her hands clenched into fists in her lap, and Charlotte’s mouth had compressed to a thin line. “I have only one question,” Elizabeth finally managed. “If they are reunited with their loved ones in Hunsford, will they be received? Will they be welcome?” 

“I do not believe any of them will be turned away,” replied Mrs. Oliver. “I will undertake to speak with their families myself if it is necessary.”

“I enjoy a good reputation in Hunsford,” added Charlotte. “Perhaps I might be allowed to assist.” 

“Very well,” replied Elizabeth. “Each of you please give me your name and the name of your father or another person who needs to hear of your safety.” When all six had done so, she said, “You will need to continue living here until several matters have been resolved. But be assured, you will be reunited with your families in Hunsford.” 

When they had left, Mrs. Oliver said, “The only group remaining is seven young women who worked in the club. There were originally twelve. Five have left of their own free will, mostly to reunite with men who were their protectors. We could not prevent that. Of the seven remaining, three are from Hunsford. Three are from other places but have been in London for a number of years working for Mrs. Younge. The last you must judge for yourselves. Miss de Bourgh, I warn you, this will be very unfit for the ears of a young unmarried woman.” 

“I will stay,” replied Anne. Her hand clutched Elizabeth’s, and Elizabeth gave it an encouraging squeeze. 

“Let me take your place as scribe, Elizabeth,” added Charlotte. “It is too much for you to have to do.” 

Mrs. Oliver led the seven young women in. Although their faces were devoid of any cosmetics, their gowns were all of the sort that had been provided to Elizabeth by the modiste--bordering on immodest. Mrs. Oliver bade them be seated, and all complied. Their eyes never left Elizabeth’s face.

Elizabeth began by introducing herself, Anne, and Charlotte. She longed for a glass of water. “It is well understood by all of us that you were all forced into the life you were living at the club through no fault of your own. You may have been abducted, assaulted, or otherwise fallen victim to predatory men or women. You may have been lured away from your homes by false promises and lies. I understand from Mrs. Oliver that you all wish to escape from the life you were forced to live. It is our intention to assist you.” Elizabeth stopped, called Ruth over quietly, and requested a glass of water. She had suddenly realized that Sophie, her companion in the club that evening, was not a part of the group.

“I understand that three of you are from Hunsford while the rest of you have come from other places. Please explain to us how you were brought here. We wish to discover if certain individuals were involved in your abduction and false imprisonment.” 

The three young women from Hunsford had all been servants at Rosings, lured as the others were with false promises of better wages and placed by Mrs. Younge in various brothels around London until the opening of the Audley Street house. All shared the same impression: That Lady Catherine had disliked or disapproved of them right up to the point where she made the offers of better wages. 

Three other young women had come from varied backgrounds but had not been associated with Hunsford or Rosings. They, too, had been placed in the house by Mrs. Younge. It appeared, at least for the moment, that they were merely hapless, random victims. 

The seventh, a delicate blonde, spoke in a voice so quiet she could scarcely be heard. “My name is Arabella Grant,” she said. “I am the youngest daughter of Mr. Howard Grant, a gentleman who resides at his estate, Hollymeade, in Shropshire. While I was in London for my first Season, six years ago, I was abducted from the park near my father’s town house by a man named Wickham, who--who abused me violently and then took me to Mrs. Younge. My family knew where I was, but they chose to say that I had been killed in a hunting accident while visiting in Yorkshire. I have nothing and no one.” She looked at Elizabeth. “You are Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

Elizabeth nodded. 

“I recall being very slightly acquainted with Mr. Darcy during that season. We danced two or three times at Almack’s, and he called one day. It has been a long time.” She turned to Anne. “My mother was acquainted with your mother, Miss de Bourgh. They were schoolfellows.” 

Elizabeth felt the room grow dark. She pulled herself resolutely back from the brink of a dead faint. Taking another sip of water, she managed to say, “Thank you all for being so forthright with your stories. I realize, as does Miss de Bourgh, that nothing can restore what has been taken from you. Nevertheless, you would oblige us if you would take the next few days to consider how we can best provide for you. Meet together and speak with one another if you like. You need not all agree upon the same thing. Those of you who--who have homes, consider whether or not you can return to your families, or if you care to. It will take time to right the wrongs that have been done to you, but we have at least made a beginning today.” She stood, and the young women filed out of the room. When they had gone, she said, “Thank you, Mrs. Oliver. I believe we had best return home now.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam, seeing the pallor of Elizabeth’s face, immediately offered her his arm and supported her as they began the short walk home. Charlotte and Anne followed behind, full of praise for Elizabeth’s courage and compassion. As they rounded the corner, Elizabeth put a hand to her temple.

“Are you ill, Cousin Elizabeth?” Colonel Fitzwilliam looked down at her anxiously. 

“One of my sudden headaches,” she managed weakly. “I seem to recall that the last time I had one, you and I were walking together at Rosings.”

When they got home, Darcy had not yet returned. Elizabeth excused herself and went upstairs. Bypassing her own room, she entered the room she and Darcy now shared. She had soon drawn the curtains and let fall her bonnet, spencer, and shoes. Then she lay down and closed her eyes. She knew she should ring for hartshorn and water, but the room was so peaceful that she made an effort to relax. She heard the door open, and then Darcy was standing beside her, looking down. 

“I was told you had a sudden headache, dearest love,” he said softly. “Shall I send for your maid?”

“No,” she replied, reaching out for his hand. “Only stay a little while if you like. I am glad you are here.” 

“I will be back in just a moment.” He disappeared into his dressing room and returned minutes later in his shirtsleeves. “Can you sit up? Lean back on me.” He assisted her, and soon she was leaning back against his solid form. He began to remove the pins and combs from her hair, drawing them out carefully one by one. He caught the heavy weight of the hair in his hands as it fell, drawing it gently over her shoulder. Then she felt the tips of his fingers begin to massage her scalp, moving in delicate circles, then growing firmer, then moving to include her temples. Finally his hands searched out her neck and shoulders, finding all the little knots of soreness that had made her miserable since the interviews. These he worked at, one by one, until all had disappeared. And when he had done all of that, he brushed out her hair, working the tangles free with his fingers until he heard her give a little moan of pure delight. 

“Does that feel better, Lizzy?” he whispered against her ear. “Could you sleep a little now?” 

“Mmm, I could sleep for a week,” she replied, not moving from where she lay against his shoulder. “Can you stay?” 

He helped her to lie down, pulled a quilt over her, and got in beside her, curling his tall form behind her. In moments they were both deeply asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, dear readers, for your patience. These chapters are taking a little longer to write and polish, but I hope they will continue to appear fairly regularly.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 25

Caroline Bingley sat between her brother Charles and Sir Richard Lacey in a crowded guild hall in the town of Wells, some eighteen miles from Bath. Maria Lacey and Caroline’s Uncle Bingley sat on the other side of Sir Richard. The room had been set up as a courtroom, and Caroline and her two friends were present to testify in the assault and battery on Caroline and the murder of her footman. 

She looked around her. The area where they were seated in the front row was reserved for witnesses. Some of the other chairs were occupied by people she recognized, including the surgeon and the two constables from Bath. She presumed that the others were bystanders from that afternoon in Bath whom she had not seen. 

She turned to her brother. “I am amazed at the number of spectators here. It is as if they were at a play. They will idle away an entire day watching a life-or-death struggle. It is so distasteful, and the noise is dreadful.” 

“Indeed they will watch this trial and several others besides,” replied Bingley. “But it is no different in London.” 

A hush fell over the room, and Caroline realized that the judge had entered and gone to his seat behind a table on a platform set up in the front of the room. Clad in the scarlet robes of his office, his narrow face peered out from a large wig. Caroline thought he looked peevish or perhaps dyspeptic. Before she had time to think, the jury filed in and took the seats provided for them. Almost immediately, three shackled prisoners were escorted in to stand in the dock. 

Caroline knew that her accused attackers were John Murphy and Elijah Bell. She was about to lean over and ask her brother who the third man was when the man looked right at her. She suppressed a gasp as he sketched a mocking bow. It was George Wickham. She looked away quickly and turned to her brother. “What in God’s name is he doing here, Charles?” 

“I will tell you later, Caroline. For now, I will just say that he hired the two men who attacked you. They are wanted as well for the abduction of Elizabeth Bennet.” He patted her gloved hand reassuringly. 

They all turned back toward the front as the charges were read, and each of the three prisoners answered “Not guilty.” Caroline noted that one of them wore a dirty bandage on his hand, and she assumed that this was the man she had bitten. As the prosecutor began to speak to the jury, and she regarded the scene at the front of the improvised courtroom, she realized that the three prisoners would have no advocate. They must speak for themselves. 

Almost before she was aware of what was happening, her name was called. Leaning heavily on her brother’s arm, for her ankle had not yet healed, she made her way to the front of the courtroom, stood with the Testament in her hands, and repeated the words of the oath. The judge, noting her difficulty with her ankle, caused a chair to be brought for her, and she was seated. The prosecutor, in a series of questions, began to elicit from her the story of the fateful day. 

Caroline Bingley was both intelligent and well-educated. Keeping her eyes on the man’s face, she answered each of his questions as clearly and completely as she could. She was determined not to provoke any laughter from the riff-raff seated in the back of the courtroom. She told concisely of setting off from the Pump Room with her footman and following her usual path through the gardens. She related the dreadful grunt and thud that alerted her to the death of the footman, told of screaming for help, and of the sensation of having the man’s hand clamped over her mouth. 

“What happened next, Miss Bingley?” asked the attorney.

“He told me not to make a sound. I bit his hand as hard as I could, then I heard an oath, and moments later I fell unconscious. I knew no more until I awoke under the care of the Laceys.”

“And who are the Laceys?”

Caroline pointed them out. “That lady and gentlemen seated on the first row. They are Miss Maria Lacey and her brother, Sir Richard Lacey. They were the first persons to come to my assistance that day.” 

“What was the nature of your injuries, Miss Bingley?”

“I received a blow to the back of my head which crushed my bonnet and rendered me unconscious. I also sustained an injury to my ankle which is still causing a great deal of pain. I was treated by the surgeon, Mr. Fielding, shortly after he arrived at the scene. Mr. Fielding is here today.” She pointed him out. 

“Do you recognize any of those three men, the accused?” 

“I never saw the men who attacked me, sir. Their faces were covered by their hats, and both were behind me the whole time. However, I recognized the voice of the man with the bandage when he spoke this morning. His voice has a hoarse quality, and I recognize him as the person who told me not to make a sound and then swore at me before I fell unconscious. And that bandage is on the same hand that I bit. 

“I do recognize the third man, though not from the day I was attacked. He was a lieutenant in the __shire Militia, who were quartered at Meryton near my brother’s estate in Hertfordshire. He is George Wickham.” 

“I see. And when was the last time you saw him?” 

“The last and only time I saw him was briefly, a little less than a year ago--in November of last year. I did not speak to him.” 

The prosecutor had no further questions, the accused had no questions, and the judge dismissed Caroline with his thanks. Charles came forward and escorted her carefully out of the courtroom. He got his sister settled in the private parlor they had reserved for the ladies, assisted her to put her feet up, and sent for tea. “It will be a restorative, Caroline.” 

“Wickham,” she hissed. “I cannot believe he would stoop so low.” 

Charles seated himself in the chair next to hers and waited as she poured out the tea. She handed him his cup and looked at him expectantly. “Well?” was all she said. 

“I have been in regular, almost daily, correspondence with Darcy since I came to Bath to stay with you,” he began. “George Wickham started by luring Miss Lydia Bennet away from Colonel Forester’s residence in Brighton, where she was staying. He proposed an elopement to Scotland and brought her instead to a dangerous quarter of London. This occurred while Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her relations were visiting at Lambton.” 

“Lydia Bennet is the stupidest girl in all England,” said Caroline waspishly. 

“That may or may not be so. She escaped from Wickham and made her way to friends of her aunt and uncle. She did this at great danger to herself, but her honor was saved.” 

“What happened next?” Caroline was interested in spite of herself.

“Darcy made Miss Elizabeth Bennet an offer of marriage, which she accepted. I do not believe that came as a surprise to any of us. Before the marriage-articles could be signed, she was abducted while out on a morning walk, very close to Netherfield, by Wickham and the two men we saw today. She was drugged and transported to a house of low repute in London. She was rescued from that place by our brother, Hurst.”

“Hurst? You are joking!” 

“Not at all. He had knowledge of the place because of the gambling and had been there once, though he did not care for it. He was able to walk in and escort her out before any harm could be done to her. It was an amazing and very daring rescue. Elizabeth and Darcy are now married and living in the house in London.” Charles put down his tea and looked at his sister. “Caroline, none of us has any doubt that the same fate was to have been yours.”

She looked thoughtful. “Eliza had no footman to take the first blow for her.” 

“Well, I have not come to the end of the story. Wickham was arrested at Longbourn for attempting a brutal assault on Miss Mary Bennet. She snatched the knife away that he was holding to her throat and dealt him a blow with it.” 

“But why, Charles? Why the Bennets? Why us?” 

“There is more to it, Caroline. It appears Wickham was in someone else’s employ. I do not yet know who that is. Darcy has not been forthcoming, but it may have been premature for him to have told me. My own idea is that someone wanted to prevent Darcy’s marriage. How better to accomplish that than to get rid of any young woman who was a possibility and to discredit the families involved? We will know soon enough.” He sighed and poured himself more tea. “Now, do you wish to stay here until the verdict is rendered and sentence is passed? Or would you prefer to go home to rest when the Laceys are finished?” 

Caroline leaned back wearily. “I want to stay until the end, please, Charles. I want to be able to go and see poor old Mrs. Foster and tell her that justice has been served. And the Bennets are entitled to their measure of justice as well.” 

Just then the Laceys entered. After Charles had sent for more tea, Sir Richard said, “I will be happy to stay here with the ladies if you wish to go back to the trial, Bingley. Maria and I have given our testimony, and they are presently hearing from the police and the surgeon. There are two gentlemen who detained the prisoners at the water’s edge as they tried to escape. The whole should not take more than another hour.” 

“Thank you, Lacey, I would like to go.” Charles stood and took his hat. “I will return with my uncle as soon as this is finished. I know I am leaving Caroline in good hands.” 

The three remaining talked determinedly about pleasant topics. It would be apparent to any onlooker that Sir Richard Lacey was much taken with Caroline, and she with him. Miss Maria Lacey was pleased with the idea and happy to do what she could to forward the alliance. All were anxious to return to London and thought that it would be possible to do so once this unfortunate business had been concluded.

* * *

Charles Bingley entered the courtroom and made his way back to his father. What appeared to be a heated argument had broken out among the three defendants. He heard Wickham shout, “I never saw either of these two men until this morning! I swear it!”

“He’s lyin’, sir!” cried the man with the injured hand. “He paid us five pounds for the abductin’ of that lady in Hertfordshire, and we was to have another five for the abductin’ of this here lady. Half before, half after. That money was in my pocket when we was arrested at Bath.”

The judge looked at the senior constable, who was still sitting in the courtroom. “Eh, please stand, Constable. I remind you that you are still under oath. Were any significant sums of money found among the personal effects of the accused?” 

“Yes, sir. I do not have the exact figure, but it was six or seven pounds. Our assumption was that it had been stolen, but no one has come forward to claim it.” 

“No, sir!” replied the injured man. “We was paid that money by George Wickham.” 

“Thank you, Constable, you may be seated.” 

“Now, Mr, eh, Wickham, we return to your situation. We are in receipt of a letter from Sir Henry Martin, magistrate in the town of Meryton, dated ___, 18__. It was apparently written at your request. Is that correct, Mr. Wickham?” 

“Yes, sir! I requested Sir Henry to acquaint you with the true facts of the case, which I related to him.” 

“The true facts of the case? Very well.” The judge looked thoughtfully at the letter before him before turning to the bailiff. “Clear the room of everyone who does not have a direct interest in the case. The spectators are to leave.” After the uproar of complaint had died down and the spectators had left, he looked sharply at the jury and those few people remaining in the courtroom. “This letter contains the names of several blameless young women who fell victim through no fault of their own. I will not have those names turned into public property. See to it.”

The judge turned to the clerk. “Please read that portion of the letter that recounts Mr. Wickham’s statements.”

The clerk began to read:

>   
>  _But sir, would you not consider writing to tell them what I have told you? I am sure you are well respected. Word from you would go a long way toward securing leniency for me._
> 
> _Very well, Wickham. Tell me what you have to say, and I will write to them._
> 
> _The person I am referring to is no less than Lady Catherine de Bourgh, aunt of Mr. and Miss Darcy and sister of the Earl of Matlock."_
> 
> _Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings in Kent? Widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh? What in Heaven's name could her motive be?_
> 
> _She wishes to consolidate all of Rosings Park and Pemberley, and their associated fortunes, under her own control. She wishes to outshine her brother the Earl in wealth, prestige, and honor. And to that end, she has paid me among other things to seduce and abduct Miss Georgiana Darcy and Miss Lydia Bennet, to hire two men to assist me in the assault, battery, and abduction of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and to abduct Miss Caroline Bingley. The demise of the footman was an unfortunate accident. He was only to have been rendered unconscious._
> 
> _What of the attempted rape of Miss Mary Bennet?_
> 
> _That was my own idea. Having failed to deliver on the first two Misses Bennet and on Miss Bingley, I felt myself to be on thin ice. Since Lady Catherine wished most of all to discredit the Bennet family, I felt that the, ah, the ruin of one of the sisters might forward that venture. I might add that Lady Catherine owns a significant interest in the bawdy house in Audley Street. You may find two or three housemaids who have displeased her among the young ladies in residence there. I will only add that there is little written evidence of any of this. Lady Catherine recorded her transactions with me in a small red leather ledger which she carried back and forth from Rosings to her house in London. Her advances to me were drawn on the __ Bank."_
> 
> _And is that all, Wickham?_
> 
> _Good Lord, is it not enough?_  
> 

The clerk, having finished reading, turned and handed the letter back to the judge.

“Do you confirm that this is your statement, Mr. Wickham? You committed all of these acts?”

“Yes, sir. At the instigation of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I carried out each of them with the exception of the attack on Miss Mary Bennet, which was my own idea.” 

Charles Bingley leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The sheer magnitude of the crimes which had been committed overwhelmed him. He sat with the turmoil of his thoughts, paying little attention as the prosecuting attorney addressed the jury, or as the judge gave them their charge. They huddled together in a corner of the room to consider their verdict. 

Charles was startled from his reverie by his Uncle Bingley. “No idea how long they will take, my boy. Would you care to take a turn in the fresh air?” 

“No, thank you, Uncle. I will wait here. I doubt it will be long.” 

His uncle left, and Charles had barely had time to sit back again before the jury returned. It had taken them less than fifteen minutes. 

A tall, stout, white-haired man identified himself as the jury foreman, and in response to questions pronounced by the clerk, delivered the verdict for each man. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Charles felt these words fall almost as physical blows. He let his eyes drift to Wickham, who stood straight and pale, saying nothing. 

Time seemed to stop as everyone stood. The judge, in his black cap and gloves, faced the prisoners and pronounced the same sentence on each one in turn. When it was Wickham’s turn, he stood almost as if at attention as the judge repeated the words a third time. “The sentence of this court is that you will be taken from here to the place from whence you came and there be kept in close confinement until the ___ day of ___, 18__, and upon that day that you be taken to the place of execution and there hanged by the neck until you are dead. And may God have mercy upon your soul.”

Charles pulled himself together with a visible effort and looked again at Wickham. He still stood, pale and straight, but there was an expression of disbelief on his face. Although the man staggered a little as he was being led out, it was clear to Charles that Wickham would give no one the satisfaction of seeing him break down, cry, or beg for his life. 

At that moment, Uncle Bingley touched him on the arm. “We should get back to the others. Come this way.” 

All Charles could say was, “Day after tomorrow. They will be hanged day after tomorrow.” 

When she heard the news, Caroline’s eyes filled with tears, and she found herself weeping. Afterward, she would not be able to say if it was from shock, horror at the punishment, a delayed reaction to the events of the day the crime took place, or plain relief that all was over. Her companions allowed her some privacy to recover, and soon the group was on its way back to Bath. 

As the carriage left Wells behind, Caroline looked over at her brother. “Charles, who is the person who was supposed to have hired George Wickham?”

“Oh,” said her brother. “You will scarcely believe it. It is Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the noose is literally getting tighter.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 26

_She poured herself another measure of brandy and began to pace back and forth in the large drawing-room. Her private sitting-room with its ink stained walls and shattered glass, was no longer fit to be used. Her fury over Darcy's marriage was white-hot, and she considered what must be done to end it. The trollop would be dealt with, properly this time. Her body would be found floating in the Thames._

_But where was Wickham? If he had disappeared, she would require new recruits. No matter, there were plenty of able-bodied servants at Rosings who would be happy for a little extra money. Now that she thought about it, however, Rosings had grown eerily quiet in the days following Anne’s headlong flight and disappearance. She had seen very few people in the house. Her meals were served to her in solitary splendor by Timmons and the first footman, and her maid, Marks, continued to dress her. That much had not changed. But she no longer heard the steps of a footman in a corridor or the hushed voices or suppressed giggles of the housemaids. Even Mrs. Jenkinson kept to her room, pleading illness. Strangely, she did not recognize the few servants she did encounter in passing._

_She had not stooped to chase after her traitorous daughter. Of course the wretched chit must have fled to London, probably straight into the clutches of Fitzwilliam Darcy. Well, let her go! She’d come crying back again soon enough when she wanted money. And when she did, her life would be a living hell._

_Lady Catherine had not deigned to appear at the regular daily service of Morning Prayer, and that idiot, Collins, had not shown himself at the house. Regrettably she realized she might have to summon him to Rosings in order to assist her in finding someone to replace Wickham. He should know of a some desperate man in the village who would be vulnerable to a little blackmail. She rang for a footman to carry her message to Hunsford, but when he answered the summons, she realized she had never seen him before._

* * *

Elizabeth awoke early the morning after her headache and was amazed to find she was still in her clothes from the day before. A look at her husband revealed the same thing to be true of him. They had lain down for a nap and had ended by sleeping through the evening, through dinner, through the theatre party, and on until morning. No one had disturbed them. 

“You look much better this morning, dearest Lizzie,” said Darcy from his place beside her. “Did you rest well?”

“Perfectly well,” she replied. Her dimple appeared. “Your treatment for headache is miraculous. I shall keep it a secret in case ladies from all over England would arrive on our doorstep demanding the same. You look better, too, my love. You are less tired.” She reached out and twined a lock of his hair around her finger. 

“Once I lay down beside you, I knew no more.”

They parted to dress and were soon making their way downstairs to breakfast. Charlotte and Anne had just sat down and greeted them with pleasure. “Your cook has made it his business to tempt my appetite,” said Anne. “Just look at these lovely fruits, and most of them not in season.”

Darcy, a farmer at heart, looked over at the fruit. “We have hothouses and succession-houses at Pemberley, Anne. I will send you a pine-apple at Christmas.” A footman handed Darcy a newly-arrived express letter which he took but did not open.

“I should like that, Cousin Darcy. Rosings is such a--such a useless place. Flowers are lovely, but we should be growing our own vegetables, fruits, and herbs at least. Everything is purchased. It seems such a waste.” 

He smiled. “We have plenty of wise people at Pemberley who can help you, Anne, and when life has become more settled, I will see that you meet them.” 

“What of the theatre-party?” asked Elizabeth. 

“We did not have it, Lizzy,” replied Charlotte. “You and Mr. Darcy slept so peacefully, and Anne and I did not have our gowns ready--though they did arrive--so that the Earl has postponed the party until tonight. We all agreed that it would not be nearly so enjoyable without you.” 

Darcy excused himself and turned away to read his letter, and as he finished, the Earl and Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived. 

“Here you all are together, said the Earl. And I happen to need to see you all together.” He turned to Elizabeth. “You look well this morning, Elizabeth. I hope your headache is improved.” 

“It has vanished, sir. May I suggest we go to my sitting room? There are too many of us to be seated comfortably in the library.” 

When all were seated comfortably, and the doors had been shut, Darcy began. “This letter is from Charles Bingley. The trial will take place today in the town of Wells, situated about eighteen miles from Bath. He will write to me when it is over, and I expect one of Parker’s men to ride here with the news.” 

“I have a great deal of news as well, said the Earl. “Just to keep you informed, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, the ownership of Rosings was easily established. Sir Lewis left it to Anne, to be settled on her on her twenty-fifth birthday as is customary. Lady Catherine was named as trustee on behalf of Anne until she came of age. He also settled money on his wife to provide her with an income for her lifetime, and the will gave Anne the choice as to whether Lady Catherine would remove to the dower house at Rosings or continue to live in Rosings itself. I informed Anne of all of this last night. She knows we will assist her to recover her inheritance. 

“I have carefully considered what, precisely, to do with my sister Catherine. Not only must she be punished for her depravity, it is imperative that I take action to prevent her from doing further injury to innocent and unsuspecting persons.

"The temptation is there to simply consign her to justice, to allow it to take its course, and to see her justly punished for her actions. However, the injuries she has done to several families--the Bennets, the Darcys, the Bingleys, and to Miss Grant, as well as the other young women in Audley Street, are of such a nature that it seems unjust to drag those families and their daughters before the public eye. That would be the inevitable result of any criminal proceedings brought against my sister.

“After much thought, I have decided on the only acceptable course. This very day, I instructed my solicitor to file a petition with the Chancery Court to have Catherine declared a person of unsound mind--a lunatic. This will be a very public procedure, and it may involve a trial. I certainly do not expect my sister to allow the court to brand her a lunatic without putting up a struggle. But I also do not doubt that such will be the decision of the court. 

"I have also petitioned the court to be appointed Catherine's guardian. That should not present a problem because I am her closest male relative, and I have no financial interest in her fortune.” The Earl settled back in his chair for a moment and passed his hand over his eyes. “Once I am her guardian, she will be removed under armed guard and taken to the estate in Derbyshire. There she will be housed in a secluded cottage under constant guard. This will enable me to care for her needs and see that she is comfortable and well treated.” He looked at Darcy. “The estate backs up onto desolate and uninhabited moorlands. There will be no escape. 

“Once Catherine has been removed to Derbyshire, we can begin to determine the restitution that must be paid to her victims. “The Earl paused for a very long time before continuing. He held up a notebook. “This was very well done, ladies, and I commend you. You have recorded all of the damages done to the unfortunate inmates of the house in Audley Street, whether they were employed there as servants for wages, lured there to serve as housemaids, or placed there for--for purposes even more evil. We will be able to begin the work of providing for all of these individuals."

“There is only one more detail that needs to be described,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Darcy, while you were resting, I had a talk with Parker. He has begun sending hand-picked men to Hunsford, where they are being received by Mr. Collins at the parsonage. Vulnerable persons, such as young maids, older servants, Mrs, Jenkinson, and the like, are being gradually removed from the house at Rosings and are being housed temporarily with people in the village--or sent to their families. A small group of dedicated--I should say very dedicated--staff are staying behind. These persons include the butler and housekeeper, the cook and several kitchen helpers, two footmen, and my aunt’s lady’s-maid. The house will soon be infiltrated by Parker’s men, sent by two’s and three’s from the parsonage. Parker looks for a report by late this evening. When we go to bring Aunt Catherine to London, she will be a virtual prisoner in that house. 

“This morning, I wrote to my commanding officer requesting an indefinite leave of absence. Unless the situation on the Continent changes drastically, I expect my request to be granted. I will assume responsibility for moving Aunt Catherine from Rosings to London and from London to Derbyshire. She will be housed under guard in a private asylum while she is in town. Darcy, with your kind permission, Parker will assist me in those undertakings.” 

“Of course,” replied his cousin.

“Now,” said the Earl. “I declare that the remainder of today shall be a respite from all cares for you young people. We are engaged to go to the theatre and to supper, but until then, you must do as you please. Find some pleasant activity and enjoy it. Walk, shop, read, write letters, or whatever strikes your fancy.” 

Charlotte and Anne declared that they would like to visit a bookseller’s. “I am weary of Fordyce’s Sermons,” said Charlotte. “I want a novel or some new poems to take home when I go.” Elizabeth expressed a desire simply to walk in the garden. “I would like to see the gardens on the other side of the house, she said. “And I have not yet had that opportunity.” Colonel Fitzwilliam claimed the privilege of accompanying Charlotte and Anne, and Darcy immediately stood and offered his arm to his wife.

The Earl also stood. “Richard, be good enough to set me down at home before continuing on to the bookseller’s.” Charlotte and Anne left to put on their bonnets, and Elizabeth and Darcy, after bidding farewell to their visitors, stepped out into the garden.

Two turns of the path brought them to a tree-shaded spot out of sight of both the house and the gate. A secluded bench--one of several in this part of the garden--sat beneath the tree. Darcy sat and pulled her down onto his lap. “Sir, do you mean you have brought me here for purposes of--of dalliance?”

“Madam, I am prepared to dally with you at any place or time of your choosing.” He punctuated his words with a kiss, and when she pulled him closer, he broke off. “However, I would suggest that we wait until our removal to Pemberley for any serious al fresco dallying.” Another kiss, and both heard a scratching, scraping sound from an adjacent path. Darcy moved Elizabeth off his lap and set her down on the bench beside him, saying quietly, “This garden is far too public for any serious dalliance.” He paused. “Ah. Good afternoon, Chadwick. The roses are looking particularly vibrant this summer. Mrs. Darcy, this is Chadwick, our head gardener here in London.” 

A very tall, gray-haired man stood before her holding a rake. “How do you do, Chadwick,” she managed. 

The man removed his cap. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am,” he said. “Welcome.” 

“Thank you,” replied Elizabeth. 

Chadwick sketched a bow, replaced his hat, said, “I’d best continue with these paths,” and disappeared around a corner. 

Elizabeth gave her husband a most undignified poke in what she now knew to be a vulnerable spot on his ribs. “You knew he was out here.” 

“Upon my word, I did not,” he replied, finding an equally vulnerable spot at the back of her neck. 

“At lovers’ perjuries they say Jove laughs,” she repeated piously. 

“Come here and kiss me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere on AO3 is a charming P&P fanfic entitled "The Pine-Apple of Discord." It's well worth finding and reading if you'd like to understand more about how luxurious and valuable these exotic fruits were during that time. I believe this link will take you there: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/2624078>


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 27

Two days after the theatre party, Elizabeth was awakened just before dawn by a knock at the door of the bedchamber. She drew on her dressing-gown and went to open it. Darcy’s valet stood outside with a coffee-tray. “Good morning, madam. It is just now five o’clock,” said the man as he handed her the tray. 

“Thank you, Larkin. Please return in twenty minutes, and ask Jenny to come as well.” Elizabeth closed the door, set down the coffee, and went to the bed where Darcy was still sleeping. She touched his shoulder and called his name very softly, but even this gentle awakening caused him to startle, wide-eyed, into consciousness. “Good morning, my love. It is five o’clock, and I have coffee for you.” 

He smiled, kissed her gently, and padded over to the coffee tray. Once he had taken several sips, Elizabeth lit candles. “It is still dark outside. Larkin will be back in twenty minutes. Relax and drink your coffee.” The two settled into their chairs, and Elizabeth went on. “Today is the fateful day, yet we must be apart from each other. I would wish to go along so that I could be of comfort to you.” 

“Never mind, my dearest Lizzie. Wickham must answer for his crimes, and he will do so today. There is nothing we can do but pray for God’s mercy on his soul. He is beyond the reach of any other help.” 

“And what of the plans for today?” 

“My uncle and cousin will be here with Parker, and we will all have breakfast. We will leave here on horseback with five more of Parker’s best men, all armed, and it should take no more than two hours to ride into Hunsford. We will bring Aunt Catherine back by means of threats, force, flattery, or cajolery--whatever Uncle thinks best. I should be back before nightfall, and if something prevents that, I will send word to you.” 

After breakfast it was time for the men to leave. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and they all walked out of the front door into the still-quiet street. Grooms stood with the horses, and Elizabeth noticed Darcy’s tall gray, the stallion he had favored at Netherfield and during their brief summer interlude at Pemberley. He leaned over to kiss her, and she said quietly, “I will be here when you return.” The horses clattered down the street and around the corner and were lost to view.

* * *

In a little more than two hours, Darcy and the rest of the party had made the turnoff for Hunsford and had pulled up and dismounted in the lane behind the parsonage. They were greeted by Ned at the head of a group of grooms and lads from the Rosings stables. “We will lead the horses down to the stables by a quiet lane,” said Ned. “When you require them, send word to the stables.”

“Well done,” said the Earl, dismounting and handing his horse into the care of one of the grooms. Darcy also dismounted, then removed his drab overcoat from its place behind the saddle and put it on. A saddlebag held his pistols, powder, shot, and other necessities. These he placed in the deep pockets of the coat. 

The men with them went to assist in putting up the horses, and Darcy turned to find a grim-faced Collins standing by the gate, which was open to admit them. He greeted Darcy and Fitzwilliam by name and was presented to the Earl. 

“Mrs. Collins sends her greetings, sir. She is perfectly well and is still safe under my protection at my house in London with Miss de Bourgh and my wife.” 

Collins bowed gravely and said, “Thank you, sir. Come in, gentlemen.” He seated them in his study, a large, comfortable room flooded with light and with a good view of the road. A silent maid brought tea. “Have you any other news?” he asked when they had been served. 

“Wickham was apprehended in Meryton after an unsuccessful attack on Miss Mary Bennet in her own father’s garden. He was taken to Bath, and two days ago he and his two hired accomplices were tried at the assizes in Wells for the murder of a footman and the attempted abduction of a young lady in Bath. They were found guilty, and they will be hanged today at the gaol in Wells.” 

“Well, I will pray for him. But he did a great deal of evil and wronged a great many people,” replied Collins. Darcy could not identify the change in Collins. The man looked much less--much less silly. His simpering expression had vanished, and even his voice sounded more serious--less smug, perhaps. “I should say at the outset that I received a note from Lady Catherine very late last night. She wishes me to call on her today for the purpose of identifying some man in the village who would be willing to undertake work of a delicate nature for her in London. She prefers someone who is vulnerable to blackmail, threats, or coercion.” He reached into a drawer of his desk and brought out a book. “This is Dr. Oliver’s journal. It relates the story of his betrayal by Lady Catherine and his subsequent downfall. I understand from my wife that you have heard much the same story from his daughter. It is here if you require it.”

“Thank you. We are here just in time,” remarked the Earl. “After what my sister has written to Mr. Collins, and knowing that Wickham and his men are no longer a threat, it seems more a question of simply going in and bringing her out.”

“Are we sure of the servants?” asked Fitzwilliam.

“As sure as we can be, sir,” replied Parker. “I have personally interviewed each one who remains. While they have a sense of loyalty to her, they believe as we do that she is of unsound mind and that she must be prevented from harming others--or herself. I should point out that she consumes a great quantity of strong drink now. Timmons, the butler, has told me she has all but finished the port and has started on the brandy. Its effect is to make her violently angry, irrational, and abusive at first, then increasingly lethargic.” 

“That may explain her behavior on Sunday,” added Collins. “She shouted loudly that I was to be sent away, and then I heard another female begin to cry.”

“And what time was this, Mr. Collins?” 

“It was shortly after one o’clock in the afternoon.” 

The Earl joined in. “Then it is simple. I will call on her at one o’clock, merely as a brotherly gesture, saying I was passing through the neighborhood. Timmons will usher me unannounced into the formal drawing-room on the main floor. I understand that is where she sits now. I will converse with my sister. At some point, I will either be able to walk out with her on my arm, or I will be forced to compel her to leave. If the former, I shall escort her to her carriage, which will be waiting under the porte-cochère. If the latter, I shall look for help from the men you have posted at the various doorways into the drawing-room.” 

The clock on the mantelpiece showed that it was half-past ten. The men spent the next two hours planning and strategizing. At about quarter past twelve, Darcy walked to Rosings by the back lane. He was admitted to the kitchen, taken quietly upstairs, and stationed by the the doors to the music-room, which were half opened. He could see nothing, but he could hear Lady Catherine ordering that more brandy be brought to her. 

At almost precisely one o’clock, he heard her speak up. “And what are YOU doing here?” she spat. 

“Cathy, what a greeting for your little brother! I am on my way to London, and Rosings lies but a mile or two out of my way. Of course, I stopped to wait upon you. How do you do, my dear? You are looking as well as ever.” 

“Well, I am not as well as ever. These servants are robbing me blind and drinking my cellars dry. My worthless daughter has fled the house, and Fitzwilliam Darcy has wed that--that trollop, Elizabeth Bennet. It is all very vexing, and if I do not do something to recover from it, all my plans will come to nothing!” 

“Sister, what a thing to say. Why is Anne such a worthless creature?” 

“She was supposed to marry Darcy, only she was too weak and stupid to know how to attract him. I did my best for her. I eliminated as many of the girls competing for him for him as I reasonably could, and still it has come to naught.” 

“Eliminated them?”

“Yes. Oh, you always were stupid. I made sure they were out of her way.” She took a sip of her brandy but did not offer any to her brother. “I have one more hope of success. If they fish Elizabeth Bennet’s lifeless body out of the Thames, Darcy will have no choice but to marry my daughter. There will be no one else left.” 

“Poor Elizabeth Bennet. I cannot believe you would wish to harm such a pretty girl. And why must this marriage between Darcy and Anne take place?” asked the Earl in the mildest of tones. 

“Must I spell it out for you? And in any case, it is your fault. Yours is the fault, yours will be the responsibility. I bear no blame in any of this.” 

“My fault? I am intrigued in spite of myself. What precisely is it my fault? Perhaps there is something I can do to make amends. You had better spell it out for me, sister.”

“Very well, I will. The only thing you can do to make amends is to kill your worthless self and those two miserable sons of yours--and their spawn as well.” 

The Earl was momentarily silenced at this, while Darcy from his vantage-point could only thank God that his cousin was stationed somewhere outside. He felt it was about to get a great deal uglier, and in fact it did. 

Having recovered his countenance with some difficulty, the Earl went on. “My faults must be heavy indeed. Why is it my fault? What have I done to merit being taken out of this world with all my posterity? You must admit, it is a horrific fate.” 

“You should never have been born in the first place! Therefore you should have the good sense to take yourself away!” she cried venomously. “If my parents had behaved decently, they would have stopped at one child. I should have been that child.” 

“So married couples should, eh, cease to behave as married couples after their first child has been born?”

“Of course they should. It is disgusting for them to do anything else. They are like animals otherwise. Besides, I managed to do it.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course. But my miserable parents not only managed to bring Anne into the world, they then produced you. I, and I alone, should have been Countess of Matlock.” 

“And what would you have done then?”

“Why, I would have married George Darcy in place of Anne, you fool. It would have been a brilliant match, the union of two of the finest fortunes in all England with the added ornament of a noble title.” She paused, and Darcy heard the chink of the bottle against her glass. “I still might have done it. A little fire in the nursery should have eliminated both of you at the same time--had it not been for that worthless nursemaid. I hope she is burning in hell where she belongs.” 

The Earl thought of the beloved Nurse, as she was always called, enthroned like a little wizened queen in her apartments near the nursery at Matlock. Adored, cosseted, and constantly visited by three generations of Fitzwilliams, she was part of the soul of his home. He said nothing. 

“But people have always stood in my way. Always. Until Darcy married that wretched girl, I still had hopes of uniting two wonderful fortunes. But all hope is gone. Even my investments have gone awry. I set up that exquisite men’s club in Audley Street, and Elizabeth Bennet could have been its brightest ornament. Headstrong, ungrateful girl!” She began to sob uncontrollably. “I hate you! I hate all of you! Go and leave me in peace!”

Darcy heard the glass fall to the floor and shatter. A quick look into the room revealed that the Earl was attempting to guide his sister gently towards the exit to the porte-cochère. His cousin came up beside him, saying quietly, “I’m here. We should go in now.” 

They entered the room, and when their aunt caught sight of them, she screamed, “Help! Murder!” and collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Although she was a tall woman, her brother was taller. He picked her up, threw her gracelessly over one shoulder, and started toward the door. The two younger men fell into place behind him, and Lady Catherine lifted her head and regarded them malevolently. “You!” she hissed. “Both of you! You are all conspiring against me.” 

As they walked down the steps and approached the carriage, a woman who was obviously Lady Catherine’s maid approached with a small wineglass. “Here you are, my lady. A little composer to help you relax. I’ve mixed it with some of that port wine you favor.”

The Earl set his sister down, and as he kept an iron grip on her elbow, she drank the composer greedily. They were able to place her in the closed carriage without incident, and once the maid had been assisted in, the door was closed. The coachman and head groom were on the box, and two liveried footmen had climbed up behind. Parker and two men led at the front, while Darcy and Fitzwilliam would bring up the rear. “We are back here,” explained his cousin,” so that she does not see us, for we are sure to set her off again.”

The turnoff to the asylum came up while they were still in the countryside surrounding London. A wall surrounded the property, and they were admitted through a locked gate after applying at a lodge. The carriage drew up in front of the house, accompanied by the Earl. The mounted men and horses were led to a large stable at some distance from the house where men were waiting to rub down, feed, and water the horses. As Darcy and Fitzwilliam turned to follow the others, they heard Lady Catherine’s screams. 

“She knows exactly what sort of place this is,” observed Fitzwilliam. “And she’s not going peacefully.” 

“This is an interesting place,” muttered Darcy. “There is a ten foot brick wall surrounding the entire property.” He paused to accept a cup of homebrewed ale from a maid who was circulating with a tray. “Though the grounds are shaded by a few large trees, there are no shrubs or bushes and no foundation plantings.” 

“Easily defended, difficult to escape from,” replied his cousin. He paused as they watched the coach being brought around. The Earl was following it, and he, too, accepted a cup of ale. “How is it with my aunt, Father?” asked Fitzwilliam.

“She is half-asleep, and the maid is making her comfortable. This is a clean, quiet, decent place, where she will be treated well. She will be guarded around the clock. I have seen her room, and while it is comfortable, there is nothing there which she can use to injure herself or other people. She may stay here until it is time for the trial. It will only be a few days. In the interest of fairness, I have instructed her attorney to call on her here. He will acquaint her with what she can expect and assist her in making her defense. I personally believe she will choose not to fight this, but we must be prepared for anything.” 

Parker joined them, and they left the grounds and turned towards London, which was only a few miles away. As the gates closed, they heard another piercing scream. “Well done as always, Parker,” said Darcy. “We could not have asked for this to be better conducted. What of your men? How will they get home?” 

“They are all mounted, sir,” replied Parker. “I considered that we would look like a miniature army if we all returned together. Their horses are being kept in the stables at Rosings, and they will ride out by twos and threes tomorrow.” 

“Nothing will happen tomorrow,” said the Earl. “It will not hurt to regard it as a day of rest for all of us. Darcy, I will contact you after my sister’s attorney has been out to visit her tomorrow.” 

None of the four men spoke after that. It had been a taxing day--more mentally taxing than physically so. All were glad to see it come to a successful end. Darcy parted from the other three men as they approached Brook Street and rode the few short blocks to his home. He noted with pleasure that the windows were alight in the gathering dusk. A groom was ready to take his tired horse, and as he dismounted a small, graceful figure darted out of the house and down the front steps. He folded his Elizabeth into his arms.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 28

Elizabeth awoke early again the next morning. Although it was past dawn, the streets were still quiet and the house was still. Darcy still slept beside her. She lay, luxuriating, until she concluded she would not be able to go back to sleep. Unwilling to awaken her sleeping husband, she slipped quietly out of bed, located his shirt, and slipped it over her head. She seated herself in what had now become her chair by the fireside, hugging her knees and watching Darcy as he slept. She reminded herself that she must take special care of him today. He had related only a little of the trip yesterday, but that little was enough for her to know that it had been terrible indeed. 

Lost in thought, she heard him stir but did not realize that he had opened his eyes and was looking at her. “Do not tell me you are hungry,” she heard him say sleepily. 

“No,” she replied with a dimple. “No more than usual.” 

“Well, if I do not have to feed you, you had better come back to bed.” 

She approached slowly, knowing how much he enjoyed seeing her in the shirt. When she stood beside the bed, his arm snaked out to pull her off balance, and almost immediately, she found herself seated astride him. 

“And what did I say about your habit of pilfering my shirts and wearing them?” 

“Oh, something about incitement to riot, that sort of thing.” She leaned over to brush his lips with her own, then startled him with a kiss as ardent as any he had bestowed on her since their marriage, demanding that he surrender his mouth to her. It was clear that she had enjoyed his kisses enough to learn from them, and she was a gifted scholar. 

“Little vixen,” he whispered against her ear when she finally stopped for breath. He raised her arms over her head and tugged off the shirt. Then he gave himself up to her. 

When Elizabeth and Darcy awoke again, it was nearly breakfast-time, and the yawning Darcy lost no time in getting out of bed. “You should come back,” said his wife. “We are at liberty today. Uncle and Aunt Gardiner are escorting our guests on a little tour of London.” She saw an anxious look cross his face. “Do not worry. They are employing two of our special footmen. We will not see them home until the late afternoon, and we are engaged to dine at your uncle’s this evening. The day is ours.” She smiled encouragingly because she loved to look at his sleepy eyes and tousled hair in the morning.

He smiled and shook his head. “We have things to accomplish today, Mrs. Darcy. And they are not the sorts of things we can accomplish here, as much as I would like to. He pulled on his dressing-gown and tossed her his shirt. As she passed him, he pulled her into his arms. “We will have time later. And I shall look forward to it,” he said. 

Jenny awaited her in her dressing-room. “Good morning, Jenny. It appears I should dress to go out today.” 

Jenny suppressed a giggle. “Yes, ma’am. Will you be purchasing some nightgowns? I cannot help noticing you keep borrowing poor Mr. Darcy’s shirts.” 

Elizabeth was soon ready, and she made her way to her bedroom, where breakfast was laid out on the little table. Darcy entered, and before sitting down, he went to her dressing room, opened the door, and said, “Put your bonnet on, Jenny. You will be accompanying us.” 

“I take it we are to do some shopping. But, Fitzwilliam, we just went shopping the other day. What more could I possibly need?" 

He raised his eyebrow. “You had two callers yesterday, did you not?” 

“Yes. It went well. Thompson told me that he would watch for anyone you would not want me to meet. I saw Mrs. and Miss Walker and Lady Porter, and I must call on them soon. I presume things are not that different here than in the country.”

He smiled. “We have been married a little more than a week, my love. While we know how busy we have been, the rest of Society believes they have been giving us an idyllic respite from the cares of the world. That is now officially at an end. As well, they are all beside themselves to get a look at you. There is a reason your mother is so preoccupied with wedding clothes.” 

“But will we not be leaving for Pemberley soon?” 

“God willing! But even in the country we dine with at least twenty-four families. And ladies’ seamstresses are scarce. You must get what you need before we leave. Besides, you will need new gowns for a trip we are about to take. I have heard from Bingley. He is travelling to Netherfield as fast as he can, and he anticipates writing very soon with some happy news. Have you not heard from Jane?” 

“I hear from her often, but no happy news as yet.” 

“We should begin to expect some. Now, put on your bonnet and indulge me, because I am of a mind to indulge you, dearest love.” 

The mantua-maker’s shop favored by Miss Georgiana Darcy was daunting indeed to her sister-in-law. But Elizabeth, never one to remain over-awed for long, soon got into the spirit of things. Darcy took a seat but did not pull out a newspaper as he had during their last expeditions. After a conversation with the proprietress, Madame Mercier, Elizabeth was measured carefully, and gowns began to emerge from the workrooms. Some were rejected out of hand by Elizabeth or by Madame, while others were laid aside for further consideration. Elizabeth was surprised and pleased at the colors, which were much more vivid and sophisticated than those she was accustomed to wearing. 

She also enjoyed trying the dresses on, for Darcy began to take an interest, signaling his disapproval with a raised eyebrow, his approval with a certain appreciative look which apparently only she could recognize. He had plenty to say about the cut of a bodice or the length of a hem. Before long, a suitable, but not too elaborate, wardrobe had been assembled. There were morning and afternoon dresses, walking ensembles, evening gowns, cloaks, pelisses, and shawls. Elizabeth drew the line at purchasing a ball-gown, asserting that she knew not when she would be invited to a ball. Many needed alterations, while a few were ready to be worn. Because the next day was Sunday, Madame promised that they would deliver some of the gowns to Brook Street late that afternoon while the rest would be promised for mid-week. 

When they stood outside, Jenny dropped a curtsey and said, “If you please, sir, Mrs. Darcy should visit the milliner’s. And the haberdasher’s.” 

“I agree, Jenny,” he replied. 

“But I have just been to the milliner’s,” said Elizabeth.

“Yes, ma’am. But you are a married lady now. You need caps. And we are sure to find some pretty ones that you will not mind wearing. As well, you could do with another bonnet or two, and all the other things you will need.” 

Darcy summoned a footman from the carriage--one of Parker’s specialized footmen--and instructed the man to accompany Elizabeth and Jenny. “Will an hour and a half be sufficient?” he asked. 

“Oh, dearest, I would think so!” 

“I will return and meet you in the milliner’s in an hour and a half,” he replied. When he had seen them enter, he turned up the street. 

In short order, Elizabeth was equipped with fetching, tiny lace caps and bandeaux for wear at specified times and occasions, bonnets to match each of her new pelisses, and a bewildering assortment of gloves, stockings, handkerchiefs, parasols, fans, and reticules. She also had nightgowns, wrappers, and peignoirs.

“If there is anything else we missed, I cannot imagine what it could possibly be,” said Elizabeth as they stood watching Darcy make his way down the street toward the shop. When he escorted them out, the footman began placing the parcels and boxes in the carriage. 

“Fitzwilliam, there is one more place I would like to visit, and I cannot go there without you to accompany me.” Elizabeth opened her reticule and pulled out the card of Mlle Deschamps, the modiste who had outfitted her with gowns in the Audley Street house. “I do not believe it would be appropriate to take Jenny.” 

“No, it would not,” replied Darcy. “What prompts you to wish to go there, Lizzy?” 

“Instinct. Only instinct. When she was outfitting me in those dreadful gowns, she seemed to have several--several redemptive qualities. For example, she asserted her belief that the young women who were kept there had the right to simple, decent nightclothes. She sent ladies’ magazines, embroidery silks, and tools because I expressed an inability to spend my waking hours in idleness. I also do not believe she is entirely French. I believe she may be partly of African descent. I wonder if she, too, somehow fell victim to Lady Catherine.” 

“My dear, I am the last person on earth to mistrust either your instincts or your powers of observation. This direction is only steps from here, across the street and around the corner. Let us send Jenny home in the carriage and have the coachman call for us there in an hour.” He handed the card to the coachman, and Jenny was soon on her way. Then he offered Elizabeth his arm and they were soon crossing the street and turning the corner. 

The shop seemed neat and prosperous, freshly painted and polished and with a tasteful arrangement in the bow-window at the front. The street was much quieter than the one they had left, but a brass plaque on the front door read “Mademoiselle Marie-Yvette Deschamps, Modiste. As they entered, Mlle Deschamps herself approached. “Ah, Mrs. Darcy. What a pleasant surprise. May I felicitate you on your recent marriage,” the young woman said with a curtsey. Her accent was as charming, and as charmingly authentic, as Elizabeth remembered. 

“Thank you, Mademoiselle. This is Mr. Darcy.” Darcy nodded gravely, noting there were no other customers in evidence.

“I wonder if you would have time to--to speak with me about recent events,” began Elizabeth. “I realize that this is a working day for you, and I would be happy to return at some more convenient time.” 

“Now is convenient,” replied the modiste. “We see very few clients these days. Let us go to a place where we may be comfortable and speak freely.” She led them through a curtained doorway into the back of the shop, which was set up as a large workroom, brightly lit by large windows. Her desk sat at the back, and there were a few comfortable chairs. After inviting them to be seated, she asked the assistant to bring tea. 

Elizabeth noticed that Mlle Deschamps’ complexion was considerably darker than that normally found among English people. Her dark hair was swept up by combs in a style much like Elizabeth’s own, covered by a small cap of fine white lace. Her hands were beautiful and well-kept, but the nails were short--the hands of a woman who worked. Her most striking feature was her eyes. Instead of the brown which Elizabeth had expected, they were an arresting hazel, fringed with exquisitely long lashes. And they were suddenly crinkled with amusement. 

“Ah, Mrs. Darcy. You have never seen anyone who looks like me.” 

Elizabeth colored to the roots of her hair. “I beg pardon. It was a--a dreadful _manque de politesse!”_ she cried, summoning up the French from her memory. “Please forgive me. I do not know why I did not notice when you came to Audley Street.” 

“Let us say no more about it. I am from Martinique. My father was a French planter. My mother was--African. As to why you did not notice, who could blame you? You were in terrible distress. It broke my heart to be compelled to dress you and the other girls in those dreadful costumes.” 

Darcy broke in. “You say you were compelled, Mademoiselle Deschamps? May I ask in what way?” 

“Fortunately for me, Mr. Darcy, I was not abused as a number of those girls were. Nor was I abducted. I was quite simply--swindled.” 

“Would you be so kind as to elaborate?” 

“Certainly. I have been established in this business for five years. My father assisted me to set it up, and that included engaging his own man of business--an excellent old gentleman--to help me ensure that it was properly managed. Unfortunately my father died suddenly shortly after his return to Martinique. I simply never wish to leave England. It is one place in the world where I am a free woman.

“The business prospered. I employed an assistant, three seamstresses, and a companion who still lives with me. Following my father’s advice, I first directed my efforts towards women of the bourgeoisie--the wives and daughters of prosperous merchants and men of commerce. These people pay their bills on time, and--forgive me--members of the gentry unfortunately do not. I had income to invest in the business, to pay those who worked for me, and a small sum to invest for myself. I was perfectly content.

“In the spring of this year, I was visited by a woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Younge. She purchased several gowns, complimented me on the work, and paid her bill when it was due. One day she returned and asked me to meet with a wealthy lady at the lady’s home in Berkeley Square.”

“Aunt Catherine,” said Darcy. His mouth was set in a grim line.

“At first there were two or three small orders--the dresses were proper and decent, and I always received payment on time. I used written agreements for each order, signed by each party. These are standard and acceptable. Then the orders grew somewhat larger, the dresses specified were a little less respectable, and before I knew it, I was trapped. She always paid me enough to purchase some of my materials, but she never paid in full. Most of our business was transacted through Mrs. Younge. The excuses at first were many and varied. Finally, she came to town, summoned me to Berkeley Square, and told me that if I did not continue the work, she would alert the world to the fact that I had been making gowns for women of the demi-monde. No respectable person would then patronize my shop or work for me. She also asserted that her pockets were a great deal deeper than my own, and that my chances of seeking relief in the courts were very poor indeed. Of course she was right. Mrs. Darcy, by the time you arrived, my business was in ruins, and it is still in ruins.” 

“You were as trapped in your own way as any of the rest of us,” breathed Elizabeth. “My understanding is that the young women in her employ were paying her for those gowns.” 

“Mademoiselle Deschamps, I have two or three questions I would like to put to you if you would not mind,” said Darcy. “First of all, let me assure you that this woman--who is my late mother’s sister--is being brought to book for an almost endless list of crimes. This is being done by her brother, who is the Earl of Matlock. She is now--let us say, living under his protection. At present, she is unable to harm you or anyone else.” 

“I see.” 

“My first question is, do you have documents that record all your expenditures and losses?” 

“I do. I keep them in a very safe place, Mr. Darcy, and not in this house.” 

“Good. Are you in any immediate distress or want? Do you require food or other necessities, are you being harassed by creditors, or is there any other difficulty?” 

“No, sir. For the moment, we have everything we need. There are no debts, but the wages of my assistant and the usual bills from the grocer’s and such will fall due at Michaelmas.” 

“That is in ten days.” Darcy made a note. “At the moment, Mademoiselle, we are gathering as much information as possible concerning Lady Catherine’s victims, who are numerous. It will not be long until we can address the situations of these victims. I assure you that the family are most anxious to do so. Mrs. Darcy and I will call on you well in advance of Michaelmas to provide you with any information we have and to address your concerns with the bills.” 

“I will call on you early next week, Mademoiselle, and I will bring Miss de Bourgh,” said Elizabeth. “It occurs to me that we can bespeak gowns from you immediately by advancing you the sums needed for materials and labor. In this way you might begin to develop your business again. I also have a dear sister who may be coming to London soon for her wedding clothes.” 

“I shall look forward to seeing you.” 

Darcy stood, and Elizabeth stood with him. “Thank you for your time, Mademoiselle,” said Elizabeth. “I will look forward to seeing you again.” 

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Darcy.” The modiste showed them to the door and stood on the sidewalk as they entered the carriage, waving as they drove off.

Elizabeth’s head fell back on the cushions, and she exhaled a long breath. “That was rather difficult,” she said. “The matter was not helped by my clumsy rudeness.” 

“Nonsense,” replied Darcy. “I do not believe she took offense, and you made a graceful and sincere apology. I congratulate you. Your instincts and powers of observation have served us well. I would never have thought of her.” 

“I would like to do something this afternoon that I almost never do, and that is to take a nap.” 

“No one deserves a nap more than you do, my dearest Lizzie. But you have a few tasks to perform first.”

“Provided I can stay awake.” And indeed, she slept for the rest of the short ride home.

When they entered the house, a footman said, “Sir, a parcel just arrived for you. I placed it in the library.” 

“Thank you.” Darcy did not take off the gray coat he favored for all but the coldest weather. “Mrs. Darcy, I will be right back.” 

Elizabeth noticed that the silver salver on the hall table contained three or four cards. She turned them over but did not recognize any of the names. She left them where they were, thinking that Darcy would explain what to do.

“Are you ready to go upstairs, Mrs. Darcy?” Suddenly he was at her elbow. He turned to the footman. “Please have tea and a light luncheon brought to my apartments for Mrs. Darcy and myself,” he said. Then he escorted her upstairs. 

She could not resist looking in at her own bedroom door, and when she saw what was within, she entered. The room looked like an annex to the mantua-maker’s, with gowns laid out everywhere, sorted according to function and color. “Oh, Mrs. Darcy!” cried Jenny, dropping a curtsey. “I did not expect you home so soon. Because your dressing-room is not large, I have laid all your gowns out here so that I can put them away in good order.”

“It is a fine idea, Jenny,” replied Elizabeth. “Carry on. Pick out something pretty for me to wear to the Earl’s for dinner.” 

“But before you carry on, please bring me Mrs. Darcy’s trinket-box.” 

Jenny disappeared and returned quickly with the box, which Darcy carried into his own room. He stood by the door, courteously holding it open for his wife and closing it behind them once they had entered. He placed the trinket-box on a table, carefully removed his coat, and laid it flat on the bed. This puzzled Elizabeth, but before she could say anything, a knock at the outer door signaled the arrival of tea. Elizabeth chatted about the cards that had been left as she poured, and soon both were enjoying their luncheon. 

When they had finished, Darcy carried the tea tray carefully out of the room and closed the door so they would not be disturbed. He stood at the bedside contemplating the large gray coat. “I think business first,” he said, pulling a brown-paper parcel from one of the coat pockets. He handed it to her saying, “That is always the most prudent way.” 

She borrowed his penknife to cut the string, opening the paper to reveal several small leather bound notebooks similar to the ones he carried. A fragrant wooden box held a supply of lead-pencils and a small silver-handled pen knife to sharpen them. “Now when you have an instinct or an observation, Mrs. Darcy, you may write it down. I believe the notebooks are small enough to fit in your reticule. And you owe me a penny for the knife. I also bespoke your cards and stationery.” 

“I will always carry one of these notebooks, sir,” she smiled. “And I thank you for the thought.” She gathered up the items and laid them aside. “I will keep these in my desk downstairs,” she said. 

“Next we come to the matter of the trinket box. I like to regard myself as a compassionate man, and your trinket box has struck me as being very lonely.” He opened it. “Indeed it contains only one trinket at the moment. The other is around your very elegant neck.” 

“But I have my beautiful sapphires and diamonds,” she replied.

“Those are not trinkets. Those are serious jewels, and they have found their home in the safe. There will be some other serious jewels when we get to Pemberley. But my sister has been assembling trinkets since she was twelve, and you must catch up. He returned to his coat, went into several pockets, and returned with a small pile of neatly-wrapped parcels. 

Elizabeth smiled and began to unwrap them, exclaiming over each and trying them on. There were elegant little pendants, earrings in the simple style she preferred, and delicate gold brooches. His eye seemed to be unerring. He had selected garnet, topaz, and aquamarines to complement the sophisticated colors of her new gowns. Finally she was down to two parcels. 

“These are not quite trinkets, but neither are they particularly serious,” he said. 

The first contained a circlet necklace of pink topaz, perfect for one of her new evening gowns. The second contained a pair of ebony combs, each inset with tiny, sparkling diamonds. “I will wear these tonight,” said Elizabeth with a smile and a kiss. She made a great ceremony of storing each little trinket in the box, and when she had finished, she stood admiring it. “I know not how to thank you. I love each and every one of them.” She threw her arms around his neck. “I love them more because you chose them for me and because you gave me such a lovely surprise.” 

He looked down at her. “Thank me by wearing them in good health and for a very, very long time, Mrs. Darcy.” 

That evening, she came downstairs looking radiant in a new gown of russet-rose silk. The diamonds encircled her throat and sparkled in her ears, and the combs held back her dark curls. Anne and Charlotte, waiting in the hall, exclaimed over the new gown. Darcy simply stood quietly. 

When they arrived at the Earl’s town house, he and Colonel Fitzwilliam were waiting to greet them as they gathered in the drawing-room. When everyone was quiet, the Earl said, “Tomorrow is Sunday, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy it. Monday at ten we shall have our day in court.”

He smilingly offered Mrs. Collins his arm and escorted her into the dining-room. The conversation at dinner was full of the wonders of London which the two ladies had seen and admired that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little retail therapy is good for the soul, even in the most trying times.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 29

Monday, the day appointed for Lady Catherine’s inquest, meant another very early morning for Elizabeth and Darcy. The hour for breakfast had been moved back to half-past eight, and there would be guests. As they prepared to leave the room, Darcy stopped and folded his wife in his arms. “These next few days will be difficult for all of us,” he said. 

Elizabeth reached up to kiss him. “I know, my dearest. We just have to get through them as best we can.” They left their room and descended the stairs arm in arm. 

In the front hallway downstairs, they encountered Mr. Collins, who was expected. He carried a large leather satchel. “Mr. Collins, welcome,” said Darcy extending his hand. “It is good of you to come so early in the morning. Have you been shown to your rooms?” 

“Thank you, sir, I have. Cousin Elizabeth. May I felicitate you on your marriage? I wish you both many happy years together.” Turning back to Darcy, he held up the satchel. “This contains Dr. Oliver’s journal as well as the defaced parish register,” he said. “I thought you might need it. Better safe than sorry.” 

“Have you seen Mrs. Collins yet?” asked Elizabeth?

“I do not believe she has come downstairs.” 

“Let us take you into the breakfast-room. I am certain she and Miss de Bourgh will be joining us at any moment.” Elizabeth led the way down the hall to the breakfast parlor, and the three took seats at the table. Elizabeth busied herself with the coffee-cups. 

“And how was your journey?” asked Darcy. “You must have left at dawn.” 

“It was not bad at all,” replied Collins. “Timmons arranged everything. We brought the large travelling coach. Timmons, the housekeeper, Mrs. Toll, and the head footman are all prepared to testify, as am I. We did not know if you would require the coachman, but he is also ready. They are being made comfortable in the servants’ hall. I prefer not to travel on Sunday if I can avoid it, but I have made provisions for the parish. I can put myself at your disposal until late Saturday if you require it.”

At that moment, Anne and Charlotte entered, and Collins greeted his wife. Elizabeth was left to wonder what was so different about the man. His look, his voice, and his manners had all undergone a change, and he seemed to be a different man than the ridiculous cleric she had first met at Longbourn almost a year ago.

Darcy banished any talk of the inquest from the breakfast-table, but when they had finished, they all went up to the drawing-room. They were joined by the four servants from Rosings, all wearing sober, everyday clothing. 

In a few minutes, the Earl and Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived. “Thank you all for coming,” said the Earl. “Especially those of you who traveled from Hunsford at such an early hour.” He gestured for the servants from Rosings to be seated before continuing. “I wish to acquaint all of you with what is happening today. You will be asked to testify before three commissioners who are there to determine whether Lady Catherine de Bourgh is a lunatic--that is a person of unsound mind--or if she is not. There will also be a jury of twenty-four men. 

“My attorney will be present, but you will answer questions put to you by the commissioners. You will be under oath. Simply answer the questions as they are put to you to the best of your ability. Lady Catherine may choose to question you, but we do not believe that is likely. Ladies, we will do our best to see to your comfort and will escort you back here at the earliest opportunity.” The Earl looked around as if expecting questions, but no one had any. The group walked downstairs, collected bonnets and hats, and left by the front door.

* * *

The proceedings were to be held not in a courtroom but in an upstairs room at a tavern located not far from the London homes of all involved. When both carriages had arrived, the Earl’s party entered the coffee room together and were shown upstairs. The room set aside was large, high-ceilinged, and brightly lit by windows. Three chairs were arranged behind a large table at the front, twenty-four chairs in three rows of eight along one side, and a single chair on the other side, facing them. A chair and small table were also placed near the front. A jumble of chairs occupied the back of the room, facing the front table. 

Darcy saw two men talking at the front of the room, one of whom was Mr. Moreland, one of his uncle’s attorneys. Mr. Moreland approached the Earl’s party, greeted the Earl, and asked the group to be seated in the chairs at the back. The Earl leaned over to Darcy and said, “Parker is arranging to have my sister transported here. I am sure she will be well guarded.” Darcy looked at his watch and saw that it was ten minutes of ten, the hour set for the inquest to convene. The jury entered, were sworn in by the other man--apparently a clerk--and sorted themselves out into their twenty-four seats. Two physicians arrived and handed documents to Mr. Moreland. The three commissioners, who were barristers, entered in their turn and took their seats. 

The room grew still, one of the commissioners consulted his watch, and suddenly a piercing, querulous voice penetrated from the stairway. “What is this place? Where is my brother? Where are my nephews? I demand to be allowed to return home immediately! Lady Catherine de Bourgh entered, escorted by two of the tallest women Darcy had ever seen. They made him think of Amazons. They were neatly gowned in dark, serviceable wool with identical round bonnets, and each had Lady Catherine firmly by an elbow. Parker followed behind. When Lady Catherine had been assisted to her seat, the Amazons stood behind her and Parker came over and sat down. Lady Catherine looked directly at Elizabeth and hissed “You!”

Darcy looked down at his cousin Anne, who was seated between him and Fitzwilliam. Her mother had taken no notice of her at all. Anne was pale, but composed. Darcy touched her hand briefly, noticed that she was trembling, and took her hand in his. Fitzwilliam looked over and did the same with her other hand. This day would be more difficult for her than for any of the rest of them. 

The clerk read out the document that had created the commission. The first to be called was Timmons, followed by the other three servants. In response to questions from the commissioners, they related stories of Lady Catherine’s increasingly irrational behavior, her bouts of screaming and destruction of furnishings, her consumption of strong drink, and her abuse of the housemaids. The coachman attested to her behavior upon leaving Rosings and arriving at the asylum. As the footman, last to testify, returned to his seat, Lady Catherine shouted, “Unfaithful servants! You will be made to pay for this.” 

Anne was the next witness to be called. Her mother regarded her with cold hatred and cried “worthless!” as Anne took her place. Anne declined a chair, took the oath in a clear, well-modulated voice, and in response to a request from the commissioners related her story. 

“A week ago Sunday, my mother tried to kill me,” she began. “We were at breakfast, and she read something in the London papers that made her very angry. She shouted at me, took up the carving-knife, and brandished it. As I made my way to the door, she threw it at me, and when she failed to hit me, she threatened my life. I ran until I came to the rectory, where I found the rector’s wife, Mrs. William Collins, seated in the garden. She and Mr. Collins cared for me and arranged for me to come to London to take refuge with my family. 

“My mother has kept me a virtual prisoner at Rosings for years. She has done this on the pretext that I am sickly. She has also ensured that I was given only small amounts of certain foods, such as soft-cooked eggs, a wing of fowl, or a small portion of poached fish. I have consumed very few fruits or vegetables. I believe this contributed to or caused my weak and sickly constitution.

“My father died when I was a child, and according to his will, I was to inherit his fortune and his estate, Rosings. He made ample provision in his will for my mother. She has deprived me of that inheritance simply by keeping me a prisoner. She commonly tells people that I am twenty-three, although I have passed my twenty-sixth birthday.

“I can also confirm what the servants have said about the drinking, the screaming fits and irrational behavior, the abuse of various servants, and the destruction of furniture. I know not if my mother would ever injure herself, but I fear for my own life and for the well-being of those in the household at Rosings.” 

When Anne had finished, the commissioners thanked her, and she returned to her seat, hearing her mother hiss, “You’ll burn in hell for betraying your mother.” 

Mr. Collins was next to be called. “On Sunday a week ago, I was preparing to leave for services when Miss Anne de Bourgh ran into our garden. She was in great distress, and my wife feared that she was ill. When I returned from church, Miss de Bourgh was resting, my wife informed me that Lady Catherine had thrown a knife at her daughter and had threatened to kill her. 

“During the course of that afternoon, my wife also informed me that Miss de Bourgh was being deprived of her rightful inheritance of Rosings and her late father’s fortune. We had some discussion about this because Lady Catherine had informed me that her daughter was twenty-three. Mrs. Collins insisted that she was twenty-six. I went to the church and consulted the parish register, only to discover that the pages from twenty-three and twenty-six years old have been torn out, including the page that would have recorded Miss de Bourgh’s birth and baptism. I have brought the register with me. Unfortunately I cannot leave it with you because the law requires that it be kept at the church. However the missing pages are very apparent.” 

“But are not these volumes kept under lock and key?” asked a commissioner. 

“They are, in accordance with the law,” replied Mr. Collins. “I have the only key, and it was kept in the top drawer of the desk in my study even when my predecessor occupied the rectory. I do not know when the pages were removed. My wife and I concluded that Miss de Bourgh was in danger so long as her mother knew of her whereabouts. I therefore sent both of them to London the next day to the protection of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Miss de Bourgh’s cousin.” 

To conclude, Mr. Collins handed Dr. Oliver’s diary to the commissioners and related the story of the clergyman’s unjust trial and banishment as well as the troubles experienced by his family in the aftermath. Timmons, the coachman, and Mrs. Toll all nodded. They had been at Rosings long enough to recall the incidents. Seeing this, a commissioner asked them to stand, and each corroborated Mr. Collins’ story. 

The two physicians stood, gave their reports to the clerk, and one spoke for both. “We have examined the patient, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, both together and separately. Her sense of right and wrong is but poorly developed. She is incapable of viewing other persons as human beings like herself. She speaks unguardedly of eliminating people who stand in her way. She has threatened to kill or harm her own daughter. Although she has not yet fallen into drunkenness, she appears to be in serious danger of doing so if left alone. We find that, while she is in robust health, she is _non compos mentis_ , not of sound mind, a lunatic.

Finally the Earl himself was called. “I am Lady Catherine’s nearest male relative, her brother. Family members brought my sister’s actions to my attention, and after investigation, I have concluded that she is a danger to herself, and more importantly to others. In addition to her shocking behavior with respect to her own daughter, in the course of our investigations, the family discovered that she has been implicated in serious felonies that were committed at her direction. To this end, she employed a man named George Wickham to carry out the crimes. 

“Two men hired by Wickham attempted to abduct a young lady from a park in the city of Bath. In so doing, they killed the footman who was attending her. The attempted abduction was carried out by order of my sister. Wickham and his two hired men stood trial for assault and battery, attempted abduction, and murder at the assizes at Wells last week. They were convicted and hanged in the gaol at Wells.”

Mr. Moreland handed the commissioners a stamped and sealed document. “Here is a copy of Wickham’s testimony. He confessed fully, and implicated Lady Catherine, in an attempt to gain leniency. His efforts failed.” 

After some quiet conversation among themselves, one of the commissioners announced that they did not find it necessary to examine Lady Catherine. He then stood and summed up the testimony for the jury, who were given an opportunity to retire and consider their verdict. Lady Catherine studiously ignored the group of witnesses who clustered together at the back of the room. 

“Do you wish us to escort you home, Anne?” asked Darcy. “I can take all of the ladies at the same time.” 

“No, Cousin Darcy. I would like to stay and see this through.” 

“You are a brave girl, Anne,” said the Earl. “You’re to be commended.” 

“Let us hope my courage does not fail me at the end, Uncle.” 

It seemed that the jury would take some time with their deliberations, and Colonel Fitzwilliam went downstairs to order that tea and sandwiches be brought up to a small room adjoining the large room where they waited. The refreshments were welcomed by family and servants alike. The Earl asked his son to take a cup to Lady Catherine, but in a few moments the group heard the sound of shattering porcelain, and Fitzwilliam returned shaking his head. 

At length they were called back in. The jury stood at their seats, and when the commissioners had been seated, the clerk approached the jury foreman. In answer to his questions, the foreman read from a paper: “We find that Catherine de Bourgh is at the time of taking this inquisition a lunatic, and doth not enjoy lucid intervals so that she is not capable of the government of herself, her lands, goods, and chattels; and that she hath been in the same state of lunacy seven years last past, and upwards; but how or by what means the said Catherine de Bourgh became lunatic, we the jurors know not, unless by the visitation of God.” 

When each juror had confirmed his verdict, the room grew silent for a moment. Lady Catherine jumped to her feet, avoiding the Amazons, and pounded her fist on the table. “How dare you! Do you know who I am? I am an earl’s daughter, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I am no lunatic. I am known throughout England for my virtue and my Christian charity. Do not trifle with me or you will live to regret it.”

By this time, the Amazons had her by the arms again. She turned in their grasp and looked toward the witnesses. “And you, Elizabeth Bennet! You are the cause of all of this. Obstinate, headstrong, upstart girl! You pollute the shades of Pemberley simply by being alive. I will see you drowned in the Thames. Mark my words. You will pay for this!” 

The Amazons wrestled her back to her seat with some difficulty, and one of them poured a small draught into the side of her mouth. In a few moments she was quiet.

One of the commissioners addressed the group of witnesses. “This concludes the inquest. Lord Matlock, there are several documents to be signed, and these can be given to Mr. Moreland to be filed. You and the witnesses are free to go with our thanks.” 

A man came in and unobtrusively spoke to Parker, who signaled the two Amazons. Everyone stayed seated as Lady Catherine was assisted to her feet and escorted from the room. She said nothing, but her daughter and brother both noted that there were tears on her face. Once she had left, the man returned to inform the Earl that the two carriages were waiting. Darcy looked at his watch. It was just three o’clock.

* * *

The Earl set them down in Brook Street, saying that he would call on Darcy the next day. The small group trudged up the front steps. 

When they had all entered the house, Elizabeth turned to her footman and said, “Please ensure that the servants from Rosings are permitted to rest in their rooms, and that they are given tea or whatever they would like to eat.” He led the group of servants down the hall.

Then she turned to her family and friends. “Now, I am sure that you all wish to rest in your rooms. We will dine at seven, and it will be an informal, family dinner. You are welcome to come in your morning-clothes.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Collins and Anne turned to go upstairs, and Elizabeth followed, arm in arm with Darcy. 

Only when they had gained the privacy of their rooms did Darcy take her in his arms and say, “My dearest Elizabeth. I would have spared you that. I would have spared you.”

“Oh, my love, it does not matter. She is powerless now--a poor deluded woman worthy of our pity. She cannot harm me.” 

Elizabeth helped Darcy take off his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat. Then she looked at him. “You have a headache, my dearest love.” 

“Nonsense. I never have headaches.” 

“No man ever has headaches, but you have one.” She sat in her chair. “Can you be comfortable sitting on the floor?”

“Of course I can.” He came and seated himself at her feet. 

Slowly and gently, she began to massage his scalp and temples, just as he had done for her. Her hands searched for all those tense and knotted muscles in his neck, though because he was strong, she had to work hard on them. Before she had finished, he turned his head, nestled his cheek into her lap, and fell asleep. “How I love you,” she whispered, and before long she slept as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What we've all been waiting for. Lady Catherine's mad scene.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 30

Dinner that night was a happy affair, though tinged with everyone’s fatigue and sorrow. Mr. and Mrs. Collins would leave for Hunsford after breakfast in the morning, traveling in one of Darcy’s carriages. “Despite the circumstances, I have enjoyed this visit so much, Lizzie,” said Charlotte. It has been good to spend time with you again--and with you, Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I expect we will find reasons to visit Rosings more often now,” she said, glancing fondly at Anne. 

“I know that no fruits and vegetables are grown at Rosings, Miss de Bourgh,” said Collins. “But now that I know of your fondness for them, I will set aside some for you from our garden. We have an abundance of summer-squash this year.” He set down his knife and fork. “But as I think of it, we have an abundance of summer-squash every year. They cannot be preserved, and neighbors--even poorer neighbors--always say that they have more than enough from their own gardens. This is turning out to be a good year for cherries as well.” He looked over at his wife. “My dear, I hope you do not mind. I thought it best to engage Ned’s grandmother to come in and deal with the cherries in your absence. Else they might have rotted on the ground.” 

Charlotte laughed. “I do not mind at all, my dear. I have Ned’s grandmother’s receipt for cherry preserves, so we will have the same thing, only I will not have had to deal with all those pits!” 

“Cousin Darcy says that he will introduce me to some of his gardeners from Pemberley so that I can begin to make Rosings Park a more productive place,” said Anne. “I am looking forward to that. And of course your gardens are the boast of the neighborhood, Mr. Collins.” 

“On a more serious note, I do intend to write to the bishop when I return to Hunsford,” said Collins. “It should be possible to do something to restore the reputation of poor, good Dr. Oliver. Older people in the village regard him as a saint, and the injustice was grave indeed.” 

“Well done,” said Darcy from his place at the table. 

When it was time for the ladies to move, Elizabeth suggested that they go to her sitting room. “The view of the garden by moonlight is wonderful,” she said. When the three of them had settled, she saw that the day’s mail had been laid on her desk. “Oh, a letter from Jane! Would you ladies mind terribly if I opened it? We are expecting important news.” 

As she read, her smile broadened, and she finally nodded and looked up. “Yes! Mr. Bingley has made an offer of marriage, which Jane has of course accepted. The wedding will be small and quiet--and it is in less than a month! Oh, Jane!” 

As the other two were expressing their good wishes, the Earl was announced. “The gentlemen are still in the dining-room, Uncle,” said Elizabeth. 

“The more fools they, to be depriving themselves of such lovely company,” replied he, taking a chair. “This is such a pleasant room besides,” he went on. “I particularly remember that my sister loved it.” 

Darcy and Collins came in moments later, and when everyone was seated, the Earl said, “I am sorry to call so late, but I have news. My solicitors are efficient men, and my petition for guardianship of my sister was approved late this afternoon.” 

“What does this mean for her?” asked Elizabeth. “Will you keep her at the private asylum?” 

“No,” replied the Earl. “My plan is to move her to Matlock. There is a Tudor cottage on the estate which is ideal for the purpose. It is all on one floor, situated in an open area with few trees, and it sits on a rocky escarpment overlooking the moors. It is easily guarded, comfortable, and situated near enough to my house that I can oversee her care. Before I left home, I ordered that any renovations needed be undertaken.”

“What about staff?” asked Darcy.

“I am hiring several of those very tall, formidable women from the asylum,” replied his uncle. “We will have enough that they can work around the clock with proper rest intervals and days off. They are skilled in the care of the insane. Parker is recruiting several of his men with families who are willing to live in cottages nearby, and they will serve as guards. The asylum is helping me to hire a cook, a maid, and a manservant. My sister will have a small, but comfortable establishment. I do not wish her to suffer, but I do not intend for her ever to leave.” 

“Transporting her seems a difficult task,” Darcy went on.

“Yes, it will be. If all goes well, I should be ready to remove her to Derbyshire in about two weeks. Richard will assist with those efforts, and then it will be time for him to rejoin his regiment. In the meantime, Anne, we must see about hiring a steward for you.” 

The Earl took his leave shortly after they finished their tea, and Anne begged to be excused a few minutes later. After a brief discussion about their departure time, which was fixed for after breakfast, the Collins’ also said goodnight. 

Elizabeth shared the good news about Jane and Bingley with her husband, and they began to discuss their long-awaited departure from London. They agreed to leave as soon as Anne left and to ask to stay at Netherfield so Elizabeth’s mother would not be motivated to work too hard at entertaining them. Soon they had fallen into a companionable silence. 

“After such a lovely nap this afternoon, I am simply not sleepy,” said Elizabeth, taking up her book. 

“Do not read,” said her husband. “Come out into the garden with me. There is a full moon.” 

She took his arm and smiled up at him. Before they had walked more than a few paces, she stopped. “Oh, what is that lovely scent?” she breathed. 

“It is the last of the jasmine. Come this way,” he said, indicating a path she had not yet followed. Illuminated by moonlight, the path wandered toward the back of the house. The sounds of London seemed very remote, and the night was warm. As the path took a slight turn, she began to hear the sound of running water. A few yards further and she stopped, enchanted. The moonlight illuminated a small, simple fountain set off to one side. It was surrounded by jasmine, the white star-shaped flowers turned silver by the moonlight. A bench set nearby seemed to invite them to be seated. 

“How perfectly beautiful,” she said simply. Darcy kissed her and seated her on the bench. She leaned on his shoulder and allowed herself to be delighted by the scent of the jasmine, the warm presence of her husband, and the lovely scene before them. She presently became aware that he was gently pulling the pins and combs from her hair and placing them carefully in his pocket. The scrap of lace that served her as a cap soon followed, and he took her face in his hands for a kiss as gentle and pleading as those she remembered from their first days together. 

“I thought you said this garden was not a proper place for al fresco dalliance, Mr. Darcy,” she said as he pulled her onto his lap. 

“Perhaps not. But it is a chance I am prepared to take.”

* * *

The next day was both busy and productive. The Darcys saw Mr. and Mrs. Collins off after breakfast with many promises of letters and visits. Darcy turned to his correspondence, but he soon emerged from the library with a sheet of paper. “Bingley,” he said. “You were right, my dear, he has finally stepped up to the mark, and he invites us to stay at Netherfield for the wedding.”

“My mother will be in transports of delight,” replied Elizabeth. 

“What plans do we all have for the day?” asked Darcy.

“Do not forget, dearest love, that Aunt and Uncle Gardiner will be here for dinner tonight,” replied Elizabeth. “Aside from that, my plan is to accompany you to visit Mademoiselle Deschamps.”

“And what about you, Cousin Anne? Would you like to accompany us? 

“Cousin Richard is coming to escort me to my uncle’s,” replied Anne. “We should get through a great deal of work today. We plan to discuss the women and girls in Audley Street, and my uncle wishes to hear my views. I do need gowns, and I would like to bespeak them from Mademoiselle. Not too many because I believe I am getting a little fatter. Elizabeth, perhaps we could do that tomorrow.” 

“Of course,” replied Elizabeth. “We had discussed coming to the Earl’s after finishing at the dressmaker. We can escort you back here, Anne.”

* * *

When they all gathered in the library at five that afternoon, none of them could quite believe the extent of the progress that had been made. The problem of the residence at Audley Street was well on the way to being settled. The smaller, more elegant house would be sold. Residents of the larger house would be offered the opportunity to go, by two’s and three’s, to be trained as dressmakers or milliners by Mlle Deschamps. It would take time, but within a few years all would be ready to leave the house prepared with a suitable occupation. The girls from Hunsford would be offered the opportunity to return to their families with assistance from Anne and Mrs. Collins. It was hoped that many of them would wish to take up their former employment at Rosings.

Details of the settlements to be offered to the Bennets, the Bingleys, Georgiana Darcy, the mother of the footman, the Olivers, Mlle Deschamps, Miss Grant, and other victims of Lady Catherine’s crimes were being worked out by the attorneys and would be made available shortly. 

“I cannot believe that my departure for Rosings is now fixed for this coming Saturday,” said Anne to Elizabeth. 

“It is but four days, Anne! And we are to leave on Monday.” 

“We will write, will we not?” said Anne.

“Oh, yes. And visit,” replied Elizabeth. 

“We are a family, Anne,” said Darcy. “Now we can begin to enjoy that fact rather than dreading it.” 

Dinner that night with the Gardiners was joyful indeed, with everyone discussing the upcoming wedding. “Imagine, Lizzie,” said her aunt. “Mr. Bingley has written to invite us to Netherfield as well. Such a kind offer. He does not even know us, yet he has invited us and the children as well.”

“He has a generous spirit, Aunt,” replied Elizabeth. “And he and Jane are perfect for each other.” 

“I have been contacted by the Earl of Matlock,” said Mr. Gardiner. “And he has contacted Evan Caldwell as well. He invites us to serve as governors for the residence in Audley Street, which he is turning into a school. It is quite an honor.” 

“He has chosen well,” replied Darcy. “We heard some of his plans today. His aim is to equip the young women who were imprisoned there to take up respectable occupations by which they may support themselves.” 

“I am anxious to begin the work,” replied Mr. Gardiner. 

After tea, Elizabeth and Aunt Gardiner found time to take a turn in the garden. 

“How are you, really, Lizzie?” 

“I am well, Aunt. I can scarcely believe that only a month ago I was at home with my parents and sisters, preparing for my wedding and looking forward to a visit from my betrothed. So much has changed. I look back on those three terrible days with a feeling of dread, but we have been endlessly occupied with apprehending the guilty, tending to the victims, and putting a stop to the madness.” She smiled. “As much as I love Anne and Charlotte, newlyweds are not generally expected to entertain guests. Still, when I think of my husband’s kindness to me on the day after my rescue, his compassion and concern on the night of our wedding, I realize I have come to rely on him as much as I love him.”

“It has certainly been a most unusual experience for a newlywed couple,” replied her aunt. 

“I expect that now that the danger is past, we will have plenty of time to reflect on all of this. Pemberley seems now like a quiet haven we can look forward to.” 

“And so it will be,” replied Aunt Gardiner, taking her arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longbourn! Pemberley! How wonderful it will be to leave London behind.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 31

Elizabeth woke up just before dawn on the day set for their journey to Hertfordshire. Her stomach was full of nervous, happy butterflies, and she realized that further sleep would be impossible, though as usual, Darcy slept soundly beside her. Stealing cautiously out of bed, she managed to locate her nightgown--one of the new ones--and pulled it over her head. She sat in her chair and hugged her knees. They would leave right after breakfast and be at Longbourn by mid-afternoon. They planned to stay three weeks, long enough to celebrate Jane’s wedding, and then to travel on to Pemberley. 

“Mrs. Darcy, you are awake,” said her husband sleepily. 

“I am journey-proud, Fitzwilliam. I could not sleep another minute.” 

“Your nightgown is very fetching, but it is not one of my shirts. Still, it is extremely fetching. And so is the lady inside it. Will you come back to bed? After all, we know not who our neighbors will be at Netherfield. Suppose Caroline houses us on separate floors?” 

A few moments later, he said, “Damn the thing! It is not as easy to get you out of it as getting you out of one of my shirts.” 

“I have a suggestion,” she replied. “Why not bespeak a dozen shirts and simply give them to me?” 

“Because that would not be as enjoyable as discovering you had pilfered one. As it is, when I put on a fresh shirt I have the pleasure of imagining you wore it last. It enlivens the dreary prospect of dressing in the same old clothes.” 

Elizabeth sat up and pulled the gown off over her head. “Is that better, sir?” 

“Infinitely so. Now, come here.”

* * *

Elizabeth barely touched her breakfast, and soon afterwards the small procession was ready to leave. Larkin and Jenny traveled in the large coach with mountains of baggage while the Darcys occupied a smaller and more comfortable, but no less sturdy, carriage. As soon as they got to the high road and turned north, Elizabeth began spying out the landmarks. She was so excited she could barely speak, and she held her husband’s hand in her own. 

At length they turned down the lane, and Elizabeth cried out, “There! There is the house. And there they are coming outside! Fitzwilliam, can you see? Is my mother with them?” 

“She is, my dearest. Your father has her.” 

And then she was standing among them, embracing her father and mother, turning to her sisters. Charles Bingley was there with Jane, standing a little way back. 

“Oh, Lizzie!” exclaimed her mother. “Mrs. Darcy. I am so very happy.” Elizabeth embraced her mother with tears, unable to speak.

“Now, Lizzie,” said her father. “I am glad you are come home to us. And so is your mother.” He held her tightly for a moment and kissed her forehead.

When the greetings were over, and each sister had been embraced and exclaimed over, they all turned to go into the house. A soft chaise longue had replaced the wood-framed settee in the drawing room, and Mrs. Bennet was settled comfortably on this and covered with a shawl. Elizabeth smiled radiantly at Darcy, who stood by the window talking quietly to Bingley. She also had a smile for Jane, whose happiness was unmistakable. 

“Tea,” said Mrs. Bennet. “We must have tea. Lydia?” Lydia went to ring. It appeared to Elizabeth that her mother spoke slowly and carefully, but she seemed strong, and she was certainly happy. Mary seemed pale and quiet, but Lydia was much the same as ever, as was Kitty. 

Hill brought the tea in, and once she had set it down, Elizabeth embraced her. “I am so happy to see you,” she said. “And I have heard of the efforts your sons made to find me. I hope to thank them while I am here.” 

“They would like that, Miss Elizabeth. Or I should say, Mrs. Darcy,” replied Hill with a smile. “Welcome home.” With a curtsey, she left the room.

When they had finished drinking their tea, Elizabeth and Jane stood up. “Jane is going to show me some of her wedding-clothes,” said Elizabeth. We will not be gone long.” When they had gained the sanctuary of Jane’s room, she turned to her sister and said, “Now, tell!” 

Jane smiled. Elizabeth thought she had never seen her sister in greater beauty. “There is not much to tell. He wrote to Papa to tell him the dreadful story of the trial, and within a few days, he had arrived here with his sisters. Mr. Hurst joined them from London. Caroline has a new suitor, and I must say, it has improved her temper.” 

“But what of you and Mr. Bingley?” 

“The day after his arrival, he rode over on horseback. Oh, Lizzie, he came very early! I was not yet dressed. Kitty and Lydia went down to entertain him, and Mary stayed with Mama. It was very exciting, but I was so nervous! Kitty and Lydia stayed only a few minutes after I got to the drawing-room, and when they left--he proposed! He said he had always loved me, that it had taken him too long to know his own mind, and that he was very glad I had waited for him. Then we heard the girls coming downstairs, and he went to see Papa while I went to give the news to Mama. It was lovely to be so happy myself and know that I would make my family happy.” 

Elizabeth embraced her sister, and they both cried a little, and Jane said, “Now you must tell me about Mr. Darcy.”

“Oh, Jane, he was wonderful. I was so frightened after that whole ordeal--we will talk of that another time--and he would not rest until we were married and I was safely under his protection. That first night, I was to go to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and he came with me. He would not leave and slept in the room with the little boys. He stayed all the next day, and the day after that, we were married, and he took me home to Brook Street. You will like him, Jane. He has no improper pride. You will find he is all ease and friendliness. He is just--well, I think he is just a bit shy until you get to know him.” 

“You would not marry a man who is not wonderful, Lizzie. I am sure we shall all love him. Now, tell me. How do you like being married?” 

Elizabeth blushed, colored, and smiled. “I like it very well. And you will, too, dearest Jane. Your Mr. Bingley will be everything you have dreamed of. Oh, we can talk about it more seriously if you like. But let us not do so now.” 

“We should return downstairs.” They left Jane’s room and walked downstairs arm in arm in their old way. 

Darcy and Bingley were waiting for them in the front hall. “We should leave for Netherfield, Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “Your mother has found the excitement somewhat taxing, and she is sleeping. Mary suggests that we come after breakfast tomorrow, as she is always at her best in the morning.” 

“I’ll just say goodbye to Papa,” replied Elizabeth. 

She found her father in his library and kissed him tenderly. “I thank God every day that you are safe and well, Lizzie. Are you happy?” 

“I am, Papa. Mr. Darcy takes such care of me. How is Mama, really?” 

“Your mother is improving. Her speech is still slow, but she grows stronger each day. We all expect her to recover almost completely.” 

“She looks well. We are here until the wedding. Perhaps there are tasks I can take on that will make it less fatiguing for Mama. We want her to enjoy the day.” Elizabeth grew pensive. “And what of Mary, Papa? She looks pale. She has always been the quiet one.” 

“I am glad that man is already dead. I would kill him with my bare hands just for what he did to Mary. To my surprise, Lydia has ministered to her. I suppose having been in his clutches herself, she knew by instinct what would be helpful. She has taken to sleeping in Mary’s room because Mary still has nightmares.” He shook his head. “And the heartbreaking part of the tale is that your mother does not know. Even in her terror, when that man had just been taken away, she instructed us to say that she had seen a dead animal--to tell her mother that was why she screamed. Lizzy, I have underestimated Mary. Despite everything, she has taken charge of caring for your mother so that Jane can enjoy her time with Bingley. I hope she can recover. Lydia is determined that she shall do so.” 

He smiled. “Your Mr. Darcy is waiting for you. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I will be here after breakfast, Papa.” 

Their carriage was waiting, and Bingley followed them home on horseback. To Elizabeth’s astonishment, Caroline Bingley and both Hursts stood on the front porch to greet them. “You are very welcome to Netherfield, Mrs. Darcy. Mr. Darcy,” said Caroline. Louisa Hurst murmured something about being glad to see them. Mr. Hurst greeted both of them enthusiastically, shaking Darcy’s hand.

They turned and entered the house, where the housekeeper was waiting. “Eliza, please pardon me,” said Caroline. “Mrs. Bell will show you to your rooms. I am still not walking up and down stairs as often as I would like to. I thought you might wish to rest after your journey. We will gather in the drawing-room at seven just before dinner.” 

They followed the housekeeper upstairs and found that while their apartments did not adjoin, they were just across the corridor from each other. Jenny was waiting for Elizabeth in the dressing-room, and after helping her to remove her bonnet and pelisse, suggested that she might want to remove her travelling-clothes and rest before dinner. Elizabeth had just emerged into her bedroom, clad in a dressing-gown and slippers, when there was a knock at the door. 

She admitted Darcy, who swept her into his arms. “How are you, my Elizabeth?” he said softly against her hair. “I have been worried about you.” 

“I am just--I am--” She suddenly dissolved into a flood of tears, weeping as though she might never be able to stop. She wept for her sisters, her father and mother, her husband, herself. She did not know if she wept from sorrow or anger, she just wept. Darcy held her, making inarticulate sounds of comfort and simply allowing her to cry. When she finally stopped, she dashed the tears away and said, “Why am I doing this? I have every reason to be happy.” 

“Certainly you do. And so do I. But I still remember what you said to Hurst and Parker when they brought you home that night. You said you had been through the fiery furnace. And, Lizzie, we have all been through it. You and I, your family--your mother and father and all your sisters, our friends and relations, even people we do not know well. We are happy, yes, but if you feel the need to weep again, know that I am always here and that I understand.” He stopped and raised her chin so that he could look at her, and handed her a handkerchief. “Now, I prescribe a nap, and I will rest here with you. Then we can go down for dinner with our friends, and tomorrow you will be with your family again.”

Though Elizabeth would never have thought it possible, dinner at Netherfield was relaxed and merry. Jane arrived in her father’s carriage, and the conversation at the table was full of talk of the wedding. The newlyweds planned to leave immediately after the wedding-breakfast to spend a week in London before returning to Netherfield. In the spring, they would venture to Italy. 

When the ladies moved to the drawing-room, Elizabeth made a point of seating herself near Caroline. “I have been anxious to talk with you,” she began. “Your ordeal was dreadful, and I am distressed to see that your ankle is still troubling you. Tell me how you are faring, Caroline.” 

Caroline’s eyes fell to her hands, which she held in her lap. “The worst of it for me, Eliza, was seeing a man struck down right in front of me. To take a human life so casually is a monstrous thing, and I have been very much affected by the sufferings of Foster’s mother. She is old and poor, and he was her only son. It has opened my heart in new ways.” 

“Wickham was a monstrously evil man,” replied Elizabeth. “And it is unsurprising that he would hire monsters to do his bidding. It was very brave of you to testify at the trial.” 

“I was very nervous at first, and I hated being in front of all those people. But in the end, I felt proud to have advanced the cause of justice. And not just for myself and Foster, but for everyone else. You, Lydia, Mary, and even dear Georgiana had been injured by that man. What a horror!” 

“Well, I try to remind myself that he can never hurt anyone else. And neither can his patroness. Lady Catherine will be shut away for the rest of her life.” 

“You know,” said Caroline, “I never knew her. I have never even met her. I kept wondering what in the world she could have against me--and a hapless footman! I suspect Mr. Bennet must often wonder the same thing.” 

“She is truly insane, Caroline. But what of your ankle?” 

“The physician says it will eventually get better,” replied Caroline. “He says that often a bad sprain can be worse to heal than a limb that has been cleanly broken. I am to avoid stairs, but I should be walking every day, trying to go a little further each time. I plan to take full advantage of the gardens here to do that, and I have made a good beginning since we have been here.” 

“But Caroline,” said Louisa. “You are leaving out the best and most important news of all. Tell!”

Caroline colored rather prettily--something Elizabeth had never seen her do. “Well, the one bright spot in all of this is that one of my rescuers was a gentleman named Sir Richard Lacey. He and his sister came upon me while I was still unconscious, and both of them were most attentive during my convalescence.” She smiled. “He has made me an offer of marriage, and I have accepted. He was so charming, he even made a point of talking with Charles.” 

“That is wonderful news,” replied Elizabeth. “I wish you every happiness. Have you fixed a date for the wedding?” 

“It will be sometime in the spring. His estate in Kent, so I shall not be too far from Netherfield--nor too far from London.” 

While the ladies chatted in the drawing-room, the men lingered over their port. Hurst took up the conversation. “Darcy,” said he. “I’ve received a letter from the Earl of Matlock. He invites me to serve as a governor for the school he is creating in Audley Street. Quite a different situation from what it was. Give those young women some suitable employment. Very worthy, I must say.” 

“I hope you will consent to take the post,” replied Darcy. “You certainly proved that you are equal to the task. Sir Walter Hawkins, who has set up a number of schools for orphans and foundlings will also be serving, as will the Reverend Henry Heath. He has also recruited two excellent men, my wife’s uncle Gardiner and Evan Caldwell, the Quaker merchant. It is an unparalleled combination of business acumen and experience with effective charitable works.” 

“A very great honor,” replied Hurst. “I am anxious to get started.” 

When they joined the ladies, Elizabeth sought out Mr. Hurst. “Sir, I will never be able to thank you enough for being my rescuer on that terrible evening. Had it not been for you, my fate would have been quite different.” 

“I am happy to have been of service, Miss Bennet. No Englishman--or Englishwoman--should be deprived of their liberty by others in that fashion. It was outrageous, and I am delighted to have been able to beat them at their own nefarious game. Seeing the looks on their faces when we walked out of there together was beyond price.” 

Jane asked Louisa for some music, and the group passed the time very agreeably until tea arrived and the party broke up. 

Upstairs, as they approached their rooms, Darcy whispered in his wife’s ear. “Send Jenny away, Mrs. Darcy.” 

“I already have. I told her I would not be needing her tonight.” 

Darcy opened the door to his wife’s room and stood aside for her to enter. “That was bold of you, madam,” he observed as he closed the door behind them. 

“Did you not know, sir, that it was at Netherfield I first became aware of how handsome you really are? I felt myself to be in great danger.” 

“Danger?” He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?” 

“It was the first time I had ever seen you in your shirtsleeves. You were alone in the billiard-room when I blundered in by mistake. I was so enticed by the sight, I could not speak.”

“You did leave rather abruptly. And all this time you never knew what you had done to me, did you?” 

“What I had done to you?” 

“Indeed, Mrs. Darcy. The morning after your arrival at Netherfield, I was peaceably engaged in enjoying my bath. I put my dressing-gown on and went to look out of the window. There you were on the lawn throwing a stick for the dog. You have the loveliest ankles. You can have no idea of their effect on me. All I could think of was how much I wanted to see the rest of you. I had to send my man away. I was not fit to be seen for quite some time.” 

“I am glad you like them, Mr. Darcy. And since we are in a confessional mood, I will confess that I find your--your--well, the view you present while retreating, either clothed or unclothed--well, it is perfection.” She followed this with a rather suggestive caress of the part she had just described. “You are quite simply the handsomest man that was ever seen, and your--behind--has a profound effect on me.” 

“We ought to make up for lost time, Mrs. Darcy,” he replied, snatching her up and carrying her to the bed. “Think of the time we wasted by not giving in to our feelings when we were last together at Netherfield.”

* * *

The next day’s visit to Longbourn was perfectly timed to coincide with the end of breakfast. Mrs. Bennet was in high good humor. “Tell me about your wedding,” she said slowly as they settled in the drawing-room.

“There is not a great deal to tell, Mama. We were married two days after I was rescued because Mr. Darcy felt it was safest to have me under his roof and his protection. Oh, and you will be happy to know that we were married at St. George’s Church Hanover Square, which is his parish while in London. Mine too now, as I think of it. We did not require a special license, only a regular license. Uncle Gardiner gave me in marriage, the little girls served as bridesmaids, and Mr. Hurst stood up with Mr. Darcy. It was very small. We celebrated with a wedding breakfast at home on Brook Street. You will love the garden there.” 

“And your clothes? I have worried.” 

“Do not worry, Mama. Mr. Darcy personally oversaw the acquisition of a truly astonishing wardrobe. And he did not omit jewels.” She pointed to her neck, where she wore the heart-shaped pendant. “This belonged to his mother, and he gave it to me to wear on our wedding day. I thought you would like to see it.” 

“Lovely. And now Jane. I am so happy.” 

“Where are all my sisters?” 

“All in the garden.” 

Elizabeth stood and kissed her mother. “You rest here, Mama. We’ll have another talk before luncheon.” 

Elizabeth went outside, where she found Bingley and Darcy talking together as Jane and Kitty snipped flowers for the table. “Where are Mary and Lydia?” she asked. 

“I believe they are talking in the wilderness,” replied her husband. 

Elizabeth found them there. Mary was seated on a bench, while Lydia had seated herself on the ground by her side. It was apparent that Mary had been weeping. 

“Oh, Lizzie, if that man were alive I would kill him myself,” exclaimed Lydia. “What has he done to us?” 

Elizabeth sat down and put an arm around Mary, taking Lydia’s hand in her other hand. “I do not know, Lydia. But I cry much more than I feel I should. The men who brought me out of that--that dreadful place said I had been through the fiery furnace, and I believe they were right. And Mr. Darcy says I should cry as much as I please.” 

“That is what Lydia tells me,” said Mary. “Sometimes we cry together. Sometimes we just talk about how angry we are. Lydia says that the more we talk about it, the better we will feel.” 

“I believe Lydia is right,” replied Elizabeth. “That shows a great deal of wisdom. Mary, I have no words of wisdom or comfort to offer you except these. I understand what you have experienced. The fact that you have prevailed does not detract from the fact that your peace was destroyed in an instant. Do not let him get the better of you. He was not worth it.”

Lydia snorted. “That much is certain.” 

“Will you write to me? Both of you? We can speak and write freely among ourselves about how we are feeling.” 

Both sisters promised, and all three embraced before leaving the wilderness to join the others.

The days flew by with visits, dinners, and long walks for Darcy and Elizabeth as well as shorter walks enjoyed with Bingley and Jane. Of course there were callers, and Elizabeth found that she owed her thanks to a host of people among both the farmers and the gentry. She diligently went with Darcy to each person to offer her heartfelt gratitude, and they were received with joy wherever they went. 

Darcy had more concrete plans which he kept to himself. He felt strongly that several people deserved more concrete rewards. With the wedding only days away, and with Mrs. Bennet still recovering, he spoke of this only to Mr. Bennet. Mr. Bennet agreed to write to him with a list, and both agreed to a celebration in the spring, once planting was finished, at which farmers and gentry alike would be welcome. 

Before anyone knew it, the day fixed for the wedding had arrived. A radiant Jane walked the short distance to the church with her father and mother, surrounded by her sisters. There before their closest friends and family, Mr. Bennet gave his daughter in marriage to the man she loved as her mother looked on with joy and a few tears. 

After the wedding-breakfast at Netherfield, Jane went up to change her dress for the journey, and Elizabeth went with her. “Lizzie,” said Jane as she undressed. “I have not talked with our mother. No one has told me what to expect. I am--apprehensive.” 

Elizabeth embraced her and smiled. “Do not be, dearest Jane. You love Mr. Bingley and he obviously adores you. He wants your happiness. Prepare to be happy and you will be. I will tell you what Aunt Gardiner told me. Talk to your husband. Confide in him. Trust him, and you will both be happy. And I will tell you one more thing. Laugh and smile with him. Dignity and propriety have no place behind closed doors when you two are alone.” She helped Jane to do up her gown, and the new bride was ready for her wedding journey.

* * *

Two days later, having said farewell to the Gardiners and the Bennet family the night before, Darcy and Elizabeth were ready for the long journey to Pemberley. The Hursts and Caroline were up for their early breakfast and saw them off at the door. Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, and she smiled at Darcy as they turned north on the high road. “Home at last,” she said, taking his hand. 

“Home with you, my Elizabeth,” he replied with a smile.

“It all feels so--so interrupted,” she said with a puzzled look. “I do not even know what I mean. It feels as though we have all had parts of our lives stolen away and are just now getting them back.”

“And so we have,” replied Darcy. “So we have, all of us. All any of us can do is to continue re-assembling them.” He looked down at her. “I must say, I am very glad to be assembling my life with you included in it. In fact, I am enjoying it.”

At one point, she worried about Lady Catherine. “How far is Pemberley from where she is?” she asked. 

“It is about thirty miles by road, more like ten across the moors,” Darcy replied. “No one traverses them. The weather is always uncertain, with sudden storms and dense fogs that seem to come from nowhere. You can lose yourself a mile from home. There are also hidden caves and deep crevices. Do not worry.” He smiled and took her hand. “It is an effective barrier, and my uncle knows it. Even so, he has her under constant guard.” 

They spent the long days of travel talking about Pemberley, what Elizabeth might expect from the neighborhood, their future, the children they both wanted--every topic imaginable. As they moved northward, the autumn advanced, and the trees were in their glory. Elizabeth felt she could gaze at them forever. The weather held, and the roads were good. Their nights were spent at comfortable inns, and Elizabeth discovered she could look forward to a good supper, a warm fire, and a comfortable bed. She found it all enchanting, despite the tedium, and in turn, Darcy was enchanted by her. 

At midmorning on the third day, he announced that if all was well, they would be at Pemberley by early afternoon. Soon he began pointing out landmarks to Elizabeth, and before long, they passed the spot where he had asked her to marry him. They slowed to drive through Lambton, and Elizabeth saw the inn, the village green, and the famous horse chestnut tree, now magnificently dressed in gold against the blue sky. 

The last five miles were familiar to her--then the turn down the lane to the house, the valley and river, the woods on the other side, and suddenly the prospect of Pemberley--now her home. The coachman stopped the carriage at the top of the hill without being asked because it was customary for members of the family returning home. Darcy, his eyes shining, took Elizabeth’s face in his hands and said, “Welcome home, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. They are home at last.


	32. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The men from Longbourn were the first to be called out, but by late afternoon, the entire district had abandoned the harvest in favor of the search. Dinners laid out in the fields on trestles for the harvesters were instead consumed by men who paused only long enough to keep hunger and thirst at bay. Hunting dogs belonging to the gentry and working dogs from the farms were pressed into service, and the moonlit countryside, dotted with lantern and torchlight, resounded all night with the baying of the dogs and the cries of the men calling, “Elizabeth!”_

### Chapter 32 - Epilogue

Winter set in at Pemberley after a glorious autumn. The house and all its surroundings lay under a blanket of snow that made the world seem muted and peaceful. Elizabeth was occupied a great deal of the time with Mrs. Reynolds becoming familiar with the tasks needed to manage a large house. Whenever he could, Darcy would drive her as she visited those on the estate who were sick, elderly, or otherwise in need, bringing food and other creature comforts. 

Elizabeth and Darcy spent as much time together each day as they possibly could--reading, talking, or simply working in each other’s company. Parker had gone to tour the family’s investments in the North, and his reports indicated that Darcy would need to make a personal visit the following summer. 

The house was full of music, too. Georgiana, in her shy way, seemed to bring out the best of Elizabeth’s talent, and they practiced daily, together and separately. 

The roads became too bad for the families to gather at Christmas as they had hoped to do. Elizabeth maintained lively correspondences with Jane, her Aunt Gardiner, her other sisters, Anne, and Charlotte, and each week brought entertaining letters to be read and answered. There was a family feast for the holiday, church, and a party for the servants and all of the children on the estate. They had much merriment in preparing and sending pine-apples to Anne and to Mr. and Mrs. Collins as well. These were received with great delight. 

As February passed into March, Elizabeth began to suspect that she might have a secret to share with her husband, but it was too soon to tell. She decided to wait another few weeks to be sure, and as she waited, the snow became rain and crocuses and snowdrops appeared. Elizabeth began to look forward to long walks about the gardens and grounds.

* * *

_Most days, her anger was the only thing that kept her alive. Isolated in this ancient cottage with only ignorant servants and implacable nurses to keep her company, her anger could only grow until it consumed her._

_One day, dining in solitary state with the exception of her ever-present guard, she looked around at the room she sat in. The cottage itself was cheerless. Built in the age of the Tudors, it was all on one floor and retained the original small-paned windows and dark paneling. She found the stone fireplace in this room particularly odious_.

 _Then she looked at it again and came to a shocking realization. She had been in this house, this room, before. When, when? It came to her that she had explored this place as a child, when it stood vacant and decaying. That was before either her sister or her brother--the damned interloper--had been born. The fireplace in this room was flanked by pilasters that looked like heavy wooden beams. But they were not. Oh, no, they were not. She would have to wait until breakfast. She was not permitted to be in any room alone when there were candles lit. But if the day was fine, she might enjoy her breakfast, at least, in solitude._

_It took three long days, but on the third morning, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky. The only preparation she could make was to carry a shawl, not unusual since she often complained of the chill. They served her the usual tasteless swill on pewter plates with pewter spoons and a pewter mug--lest she break the china and turn it into weapons. She crept immediately to the fireplace, pressed a spot in the ornamental carving on the mantelpiece, and the priest hole on the right-hand side was revealed._

_Her memory was sharp. One stepped off into nothingness, but on the side nearest the fireplace, large iron staples had been driven into the stone masonry. She pulled the hidden door closed behind her, not pausing to hear the latch engage. Then down and down she crept, using the staples like the rungs of a ladder, one rung at a time. She wondered idly if that trollop Elizabeth Bennet were with child yet. The thought was revolting, but she consoled herself with the thought that if there were a brat, it would die with the mother._

_At long last her foot touched the ground. A packed-earth floor widened into an area where she could stand up. The door! Where was it? She felt the walls blindly, moving in a circle until her hands touched the ancient wood and iron. The hinges shrieked in protest, but the door swung open. She left the area quickly, hiding in the growth of underbrush that covered the steep hill up to the moor._

_She was not as young as she had once been, but she was still strong, and she had been this way many, many times before in her youth. She alternated climbing with resting, crouched, in the dense growth. At last she achieved her objective. Ahead of her stretched miles of trackless, grassy waste, showing newly green in the bright sunlight. She could see the cottage far below. People were swarming like ants. She had been missed. She laughed. Then, carefully orienting herself with the sun, she began to walk west. She wished for a stout stick, for she occasionally set her foot into small holes or uneven, rocky places. But nothing like that was to be had. There was only grass and rock, and marshy ground. By her count, she had ten miles to cover. A long way for an old lady, but she was still strong, was she not?_

_She walked on until she estimated she had walked two hours. Ignoring her hunger and thirst, she stopped and sat on a rock outcropping to rest. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and it was chilly. In fact, the sky appeared to be clouding over, with clouds rolling in from the west--the direction of her destination. She stood up and resumed walking. After another hour, she could catch glimpses of the road, far below her, that would eventually reach the town of Lambton. She knew that the distance by road from Lambton to the turnoff to Pemberley was five miles. She was not going as fast as she wished, but it was time for another rest interval._

_She was hungry and thirsty--she would give almost anything for a sip of water, a crust of the toast she had left behind so disdainfully. She dozed as she sat. When she awoke a few minutes later, the fog had come in. The sun was gone, and the mist was like a thick, wet blanket of clouds. She recalled where she had seen the road, oriented herself to it, and kept walking. But she was cold, so very cold._

_Her heavy gown grew damp, then soaking wet. The hem was wet from the marshy ground, but the rest of her dress had picked up moisture from the fog. It was like walking eternally in a fine, chilly drizzle. She kept going, much more slowly now, careful of where she placed her feet. When she finally turned her ankle in a rabbit-hole, she fell face-forward and was unable to get up. Cursing, she drew her shawl around her._

* * *

The day was cloudy, and rain threatened. Elizabeth thought it a fine day to stay indoors with her lover. She envisioned quiet solitude in the library and perhaps a long nap together in the wide canopied bed they now shared. And it was certainly chilly enough for a fire. 

She hummed as she walked to the music room, where Georgiana awaited her for their joint practice. Darcy was a most appreciative audience, and that pleased both his wife and his sister. They were about to begin a new duet when they heard a loud knocking at the front door. 

About twenty minutes later, Darcy joined them. He was followed by his steward, and both men looked grim. “Elizabeth, Georgiana, I must ride to my uncle’s. He has requested my presence immediately. Please stay here, and do not go outside under any circumstances. I do not believe there is anything to worry about, but Lady Catherine has attempted an escape. She cannot have gotten far in this weather. I will send word of any news and will return myself as quickly as possible.” He kissed his sister, and then embraced Elizabeth, saying quietly, “It will be all right, my dearest Lizzie. I will be back.” Then he turned to his steward and said, “I want a man at every door, even the French windows. And I want a man to stay with the ladies. Let him be armed.” Then he turned and left. 

Darcy cursed inwardly as he rode up toward the moor. His horse would be useless to him once he got there, but he needed to get there quickly. His uncle’s message had been dire. Lady Catherine had escaped the house by means of an ancient, forgotten priest hole--a hiding place and escape route built into the old cottage in the days when Roman Catholic priests were hunted down and executed in England. The existence of this means of escape was entirely unknown to the Earl, but his elder sister had known of it. Fortunately she had failed to close it all the way behind her. It was clear that she was headed across the moor, probably westward, probably towards Pemberley and the Darcys. 

There were at least two dozen men gathering at the site when Darcy arrived. They would form a line, walking abreast, each man no more than an arm’s length from the men on either side of him. This would minimize the danger of losing someone in the mist. A pocket compass would provide them with the heading needed to continue in an easterly direction without benefit of the sun. The Earl’s men would be doing the same thing, walking west. They had a little more than ten miles to cover, and they would continue walking, shouting at intervals, until the two parties met. 

The long, slow walk began. Darcy had his compass and his watch, but he knew they were inching along, and he had no idea of the distance they had covered. Occasionally they would stop, check to ensure that they were in contact with the men on either side, and stand silent, listening for the shouts of the other party. 

Darcy estimated that they had continued at this snail’s pace for nearly two hours when he heard a shout. Everyone stopped. A man from a position near the southern extremity of the line walked slowly up the line until he encountered Darcy. “We’ve found her, sir. She’s dead.” Darcy followed him back down the line after waiting to make sure the men to either side of him had closed the gap. 

She lay where she had fallen, soaked to the skin, arms in front of her with both hands balled into fists. Her skin was waxen, but even in death her lips formed an angry snarl. Darcy felt numb. “Would you like for us to lay her out decent, sir?” asked one of the men. 

“Yes, please do that.” 

They turned her over and laid her out decently, composing her limbs and crossing her hands over her breast. But they could not close the terrible, obsidian eyes which stared fixedly, angrily, at whatever had awaited her in eternity. They re-formed the line, and presently they heard a shout from the other party, straight ahead. When the two groups met, both turned towards Pemberley, which was closest. A blanket materialized, and two men carried the dead woman. The lines re-formed again, and they started out. 

Darcy wanted to be at home. He wanted his wife. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her it was all over and hold her if she cried. As they approached the house, the men asked him what to do with the body. “Place it in the chapel until the Earl is ready for it,” he replied. “I do not want it in my house.” 

All the responsibilities were carried out. The fifty-odd men were fed in the vast kitchens. The Earl was made welcome and warmed himself by the fire with a meal and a bowl of hot punch. No one felt much like talking. “Let us all get some rest,” said the Earl, standing and shaking Darcy’s hand. “I will take her home with me, and we will have the funeral there. I will also send an express to Mr. Collins and ask him to go with Mrs. Collins and break the news to poor Anne.” He kissed Elizabeth and said, “Take care of him,” and then he took his leave. 

Elizabeth and Darcy walked upstairs arm in arm and went to their room. “It is over and done with, Lizzie. She will never harm another living soul. She has attempted her last wicked deed, and she has failed at it.” 

“She was coming here, was she not? One last effort to do away with me.” 

“She forgot about the weather, the rain, and the fog. And even in death her face wore an expression of hatred. She died as angrily as she lived. We should all hope for a better end.” 

Elizabeth smiled and looked up at him. “Enough about endings,” she said, showing her dimple. “What is your opinion of beginnings? And I have quite forgotten. Did you request a dear little girl or a horrid little boy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we have reached the end together, and if you have stayed with me this long, I thank you for that. I especially appreciate the people who wrote with comments and encouragement. There is a person out there who has commented on each chapter. I am so honored that she took the time to do so! 
> 
> There is a particular person I would like to thank, and that person knows who they are, and I hope they know how deeply I appreciate all they have done for me. Oftentimes good people like to do good deeds quietly, so we will leave it at that. 
> 
> I would like to dedicate this story to my very own Mr. Darcy, whose name was Gregory and who is no longer here. Even so, we are still somehow having our HEA.

**Author's Note:**

> I was so fortunate to find a copy of Alison's "Forces of Passion" on the Wayback Machine. I have read and enjoyed it and understand perfectly why it is loved by so many people. I have shamelessly adopted the idea that the Darcy's London home was located in Brook Street. It is the perfect setting for parts of this story. If I have inadvertently adopted anything else, I beg forgiveness in advance. It's one of those fics that you adopt into your canon without knowing it.
> 
> WARNING: This story includes a subtle but menacing threat of sexual violence. It is somewhat more vivid than the allusions in the original "Pride and Prejudice," but it is not explicit or graphic. Please do not read the story if you would find this disturbing.


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